


The Eagle And Deer Walk Parallel Paths

by Metal_Gear_XANA



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Banter, Bittersweet, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Post-Timeskip, Pre-Timeskip, Romance, Sexual Content, slowburn, spoilers for all routes, verdant wind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2020-10-19 20:57:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 101,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20663675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Gear_XANA/pseuds/Metal_Gear_XANA
Summary: Previously (horribly) titled 'The Eagle That Came Down to Mingle With The Deer'!Edelgard/Claude, Pre-Timeskip to Post-Timeskip, Golden Deer Route. Claude finds the Black Eagles' House Leader, the imperial princess Edelgard, quite interesting compared to any noble he's met. Edelgard never expected to open up to anyone, let alone the enigma and schemer that is Claude. Yet the more the two get to know each other the more they realise that they have a lot in common: questioning the Church's authority, the systems of Crest, and criticising Fodlan's isolationist position. Both never thought they would fall in love, let alone with each other. Yet fate, whether it exists or not, never had the two destined to be happy together. Even with similar goals they will have to walk their own paths...Pre-Timeskip from Claude's perspective; Post-Timeskip from Edelgard's perspective.





	1. The Eagle and Deer Meet

The Eagle That Came Down to Mingle With The Deer 

Chapter 1: The Eagle and Deer Meet

**A/N: Edelgard/Claude is such an interesting dynamic that it is a crime that these two are a rare pair! They have so much in common yet quite a number of differences that they play off of each other so well. This crime must be righted: my story is one contribution. There will be a few chapters, the first ** **bunch being Pre-Timeskip (Claude) and then Post-Timeskip (Edelgard) following Golden Deer Route/Verdant Wind.**

* * *

In the towering cathedral situated in Garreg Mach the new year marked the beginning of the new Houses’ students and leaders. Three colours stood out like the finest gems amongst rocks: red, blue, and yellow. The three houses-Black Eagles, Blue Lions, and Golden Deer-are gathered here to introduce one another. For the next year they would mingle as students, regardless of sex, ethnic background, and class. 

Claude von Riegan is extremely interested with what this year may hold.

Quite the magnificent monastery, if he does say so himself. Whilst the religion of Seiros is one that he does not follow (although he had to play along that he showed piety to the Goddess) he was impressed with the architecture. Funny how a religion devoted to helping others spend so much gold in stunning architecture instead of assisting the poor. But that was of secondary interest; right now his interest lay with the two Houses.

First was the Blue Lions, with their House leader Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. The boy smiled warmly and shook Claude’s hand, and uttered how he looks forward to getting to know him. Even if one shouldn’t judge someone from first impressions Claude had to admit that Dimitri was quite dull. Chivalrous and on about justice: how very typical noble. At least his niceties felt genuine. But Claude felt that there is something… off about him. Even how some of his House members eye him-that dark haired grumpy person, Felix, and that blond uptight girl, Ingrid-indicate that there is something troubling about Dimitri. Claude would have to keep a careful eye on him. Apart from the prince the rest of the Blue Lions appeared to be a fun bunch. He supposed he could get along with them, possibly even tempt some to side with the Alliance. That thought made him smirk for a brief moment.

Then it was onto the Black Eagles. Emerald eyes blinked inquisitively towards the House leader. Edelgard von Hresvelg observed him with a steely look, her lilac eyes such a soft colour that did not seem suited to such an austere face. White hair and deathly pale skin-she resembled Lysithea. She offered him a curt nod and shook his hand. Her grip was tight; she is stronger than she looks. Claude smiled mischievously at her to gauge how she would react. Her eyebrows knitted and her frown deepened, a way of expressing suspicions. When one of the students behind her squeaked-probably mistaking his smile towards them-Edelgard turned to them, a purple haired girl, and spoke soothingly to calm her. At that Claude cocked an eyebrow. Well she certainly isn’t dull compared to prince-boy. Even if she carried herself like a solemn dutiful noble he witnessed compassion from her and sensed that she was… playing a role. Yes, as if she is playing along to something.

Perhaps she’s like him, a person not biding to customs.

He could tell that she is rather perspective, so he would have to keep a relative distance from her. But an eagle can be taken out with an arrow, and he was sure that would be a way for him to keep an eye on her.

Suffice to say this was going to be a very _interesting _year indeed with a House leader like her.

* * *

The Dining Hall was boisterous with life as students from the Houses intermingled to introduce themselves. Some students seemed to have already formed quick friendships, while others reunited with long-time friends or acquaintances from within their House. There were a few that seemed to show hostility towards others, like a girl with a black hat huffing pass Lorenz that warranted a chuckle from Claude. As his emerald eyes glanced around he noticed Edelgard sitting with that snake-faced looking man: Humer, Herbert, or something like that. That man was like a dog that stood with his master, refusing to leave unless ordered to. Quite the opposite of Lorenz: he would gladly leave Claude.

Mustering his most charismatic and award-winning smile Claude sauntered over to the princess. When Edelgard notices him she blinked at him with narrowed lilac eyes. It seems that the girl is suspicious of anyone that approaches her. Even for the future emperor of Adrestia it seemed a bit excessive. All the more interesting~. After all Claude loves figuring out puzzles. With a brief nod at her retainer Claude sits opposite of her.

"How you adjusting to academy life, Princess?” Claude inquired with his eyes fluttering oh-so lovingly at her. He leaned against his elbow.

“Is this buffoon irritating you with his presence, Your Highness?” Hubert cut in with a trenchant glare towards him. Such a glare didn’t faze Claude; his smile only widened to agitate him.

Edelgard waved a hand dismissively to her retainer. She shot him a look that told him to back off. “There is no need to be rude Hubert. If von Riegan wishes to mingle with me then I shall grant him the right to do so.”

Hubert hums and bowed apologetically to her. The retainer then left his mistress to give her the space that she hinted at. Claude huffed a light laugh at the small victory of shooing the princess’ stubborn dog. She turned to him and cocked an eyebrow at him.

“I feel like I witnessed a murder,” Claude uttered with a sly grin. “Is your retainer this ‘friendly’ with everyone that wishes to chat with you, Princess?”

Her nose crinkled and he could have sworn he _nearly _made her smile. “There is no need to call me princess; we are all students here.”

“I agree; hearing you call me ‘von Riegan’ sounds so formal that it’s unsettling!” Claude remarked with a faux shudder. “Just Claude will do.”

“Likewise Edelgard will be fine,” Edelgard added with a respectful nod.

Her brows furrowed as she regarded his features. It would seem that she was trying to formulate an idea as to what to make of him. Clearly she was interested and weary of him, and honestly Claude did not blame her. After all a long-lost heir to Riegan is suddenly announced just last year? That was bound to raise eyebrows. He has never met her or Dimitri before because of this, and thus they had every reason to be the most suspicious. Well Claude was used to questioning gazes and whispers of uncertainties.

Claude winked at her. “Taken back by my handsomeness, Princess?” 

Edelgard cleared her throat and her eyes flickered away for a second. Emerald eyes gleamed in triumph. Oh so she did find him handsome! Perhaps she isn’t as impervious to his charms as he had originally thought. 

She quickly regained her composure as she leaned forward to observe him with a solemn expression. “You are an enigma, Claude. Riegan had no one to inherit his role as the sovereign of the Leicester Alliance. But then just last year you show up, and now you are the future sovereign.” 

A light smile crossed her face, the kind of one finding interest in someone. “Surely you understand why I am… mindful around you.”

Claude reared his head to laugh. “Oh Princess you flatter me! I’m really not _that _interesting!”

Edelgard huffed, as if he had offended her. “I told you there is no need to refer to me as ‘princess’.”

“But I like calling you that,” Claude said, his smirk widening as she glared accusingly at him. “Unless you prefer me to call you ‘Your Shortiness’.”

An embarrassed pink blush spread across Edelgard’s cheeks. Her mouth was agape as she stared at him mortified and utterly offended. Claude snickered and nonchalantly ate his meal as if he never offended the future emperor. As he ate his meal he pondered about the things he can decipher from her words and mannerisms. One was that she was not snobbish: she wants to be seen as a student here and to mingle with her peers. Two, although suspicious of him, she seemed uninterested in his skin colour. Normally the first thing people point out is his tan skin. Fódlanese are not as dark as him. Although he hates thinking this fortunately he is not too dark, otherwise the Fódlanese would be hostile to him by associating him as an Almyran.

Three: she hates being called short.

Glancing up he noticed her eating a strawberry sorbet with a scrunched expression that indicated that he nailed her coffin with his remark before. He almost felt bad. Almost.

“Are you not going to talk to me anymore because I called you short?” Claude teased while playing with his spoon between his fingers. “How petty of you, Edelgard.”

Something shot itself at his hand. Looking down he instantly recognized it as a bit of sorbet. Flabbergasted he looked back up Edelgard, who snorted and hid her smirk into the meal she was eating. Claude let a ghost-of-a smile appear on his face. Edelgard von Hresvelg… quite the character indeed.

* * *

Daily sermons were such a drag.

Claude had nothing against people wanting to express their beliefs, but being forced to attend when he did not worship the Goddess was a nuisance. Unfortunately he had no choice; it was expected of every noble to express piety to the Goddess. Regardless of his or her belief they had to devout themselves to the teaching of Seiros. For Claude, as he sat on the pew with a bored expression, there was something… deeply unsettling with these sermons. Everyone followed Rhea’s teachings without hesitation, and to follow without question did _not _sit right with him.

His emerald eyes searched the students of the three Houses to gauge their reactions. There were some, such as Mercedes and Marianne, who showed genuine respect to the Goddess, while others simply remained respectfully silent. When his eyes fell on a certain imperial princess he stopped to stare. Her expression was stern, judgmental even, as she observed Rhea with a glint of contempt. She sat straight and appeared respectful, yet Claude noted how she didn’t want to be here. 

Well he had a perfect excuse to leave.

Quietly he stood up from the pew and gently moved out of others’ ways. Out of his row he then passed by Edelgard and placed a hand on her shoulder. There was a visible flinch, one that seemed quite violent even for someone oblivious to another. She glanced up at him and he whispered that she had forgotten their task. For a second she seemed unsure what he meant, only to then realize his game. With a glance over at her retainer she then stood up and followed him out the cathedral. Once outside on the bridge, where no one was, Claude made an exaggerated sigh and stretched out his arms to the sun. 

“Finally escaped that insufferable sermon!” He remarked with a smile adorning his features. 

“Wait-you brought me along because you were _bored_?” Edelgard spluttered in incredulous disbelief, her lilac eyes wide as plates as she stared at him.

Claude snorted and brought a finger to his lips to silence her. “Let’s go somewhere private, Princess. After all the Church has many flies that may be overhearing us.”

Without waiting for her confirmation he grabbed her hand and rushed down the bridge. Why was she wearing gloves in such warm weather? Maybe she easily grew cold, unlike he who is used to the gruelling deserts of Almyra. Soon he led her to an area where none bothered to occupy. They were not too close to any walls where one may eavesdrop on them. Edelgard immediately retracted her hand from his and shot an accusing glare. 

He crossed his hands and his smile loosened to a mirthless one. “Those sermons… I don’t know about you but they feel so unsettling.”

Her glare vanquished and her lilac eyes displayed some emotion he has not seen from her. It was almost akin to… hopeful thinking. She seemed to observe him with an idea that perhaps he could relate to her. So it would seem he had every right to be honest about his views of the Church. 

“I’m all for one following their faith and all, but to be forced to sit down and agree without questioning a religion just… doesn’t sit right with me.” Claude continued with his hands now behind his head. 

“Am I to concur with Claude von Riegan that I too question the Church’s influence in Fódlan’s affairs and future?” Edelgard expressed with a cocked eyebrow in surprise. 

Ah so she really does question the Church like him. Claude felt a strange and unexpected feeling of relief wash over him. To meet someone who shares his blasphemous views brought inner joy and content to him. His mirthless smile grew to a genuine one when he gave her a nod of affirmation.

“Nice to know we agree on something, Edelgard,” Claude uttered seriously. He noticed puzzlement flicker in her lilac eyes: ‘how did he figure me out’ was what they questioned. “If you’re wondering how I figured you out, well, your glare at the Archbishop wasn’t exactly subtle.” 

She clicked her lips and grumbled a curse at her stupidity. “I will keep that in mind for the future. I suppose I should thank you for the warning.”

He winked at her and played dumb as if he had no idea what she was talking about. He then grew curious as he tilted his head. “I suppose you believe that people have the right to believe or not believe in what they want, yes?”

There was a hint of reluctance evident in how her eyes darted away from him. Clearly her views were ones she has never openly expressed to another. Claude could relate, as Edelgard is the first he has met to share his views. If her views are exactly like his then he knew what to expect from her. 

“Not only do I believe one is entitled to believe and question what they want, but that they also do not need to depend on a deity,” Edelgard begun with a hand gesture. “People are skilful because they are, not because some god blessed them. The idea that the Goddess blessed some with Crests thus giving them rights over others simply because they have one is utterly ludicrous.”

Quite the scandalous view she has! But it was precisely what he expected: he shares her views. The idea of Crests dictating people’s lives strains Fódlan’s future. There are plenty of skilful people out there without Crests, yet they are treated like dirt because of it. Classism exists because Crests do. That was one of the first things Claude learnt when coming to this country. To add to how preposterous the idea is the Church, the ‘wonderful’ religion that is all about peace and prosperity, enforced and continues to enforce this idea. It would seem that Edelgard has pieced the two together like him. 

“Wow, I agree with you again! Is the two of us meeting… _destiny?_” He inquired oh-so dramatically with a faux gasp. He snorted at his own joke. “I’ll keep this conversation between us a secret.”

Edelgard crossed her arms and hummed in agreement. A small smile, a genuine one, found itself upon her face. It lit up her steely face and brought a… cuteness to her. On top with the lilac ribbons in her hair she looked like a normal girl, not a future emperor.

“I am grateful to know that there are people out there who do not blindly follow others,” Edelgard uttered honestly. Was that her way of saying thank you?

An uncharacteristic smirk appeared on her pallor features. “Perhaps you are not as foolish as you look.” 

“An insult and a compliment rolled in one? I’m impressed, Princess!” Claude commends with a toothy grin. 

He then offered her to a game of chess in the hall to kill the time until the sermon ends. Going back would be rude, and besides he wanted to show how truly intelligent he is. He wanted to as a way to show her to be careful of him and as a friendly competition. After much deliberation she agreed, after mentioning that she will not be leaving the sermons in the future. At that Claude snorted. The more he was getting to know Edelgard the more interested he grew. A noble who wishes to be treated as an equal, an individual who cares not about skin colour, and a Fódlanese that questions the Church and the Goddess… Edelgard is turning into quite the mystery. 

Claude is going to enjoy deciphering her.


	2. Bonding over Bandits, Plants and Tea

Bandits… how cumbersome.

Not that Claude hasn’t fought them before… but this group was particularly stubborn and intent on killing him and the other lords. The archer gritted his teeth as he rounded a tree to avoid the axe-wielding maniacs chasing after him. He couldn’t notch an arrow and turn to fire with this close range and a moving target. It was most fortunate that the two other House leaders, and these two mysterious mercenaries, were here, otherwise the future Leicester sovereign would be no more! 

A masculine bloodcurdling scream from behind him grinded him to a halt. When he turned around he noticed the man’s head split in half from an axe. The familiar sight of white hair brought a smirk to Claude’s face. 

“How nice of you to save me, Princess!” He remarked to her.

Edelgard turned to him with a solemn expression as she heaved the axe out from the bandit. He fired an arrow pass her to an oblivious bandit fighting the enigmatic mercenary of teal hair. Claude could not help but snicker at her petrified expression from believing that he had aimed at her. Her scoff only made his smirk widen. 

“A warning would have been appropriate!” She scolded as she approached him so they were back to back.

“And have that bandit notice and dodge my shot? Not a smart move,” Claude reminded as he eyed the scenery for any hidden bandits. “Besides, seeing your face of betrayal was absolutely worth it!” 

“I wish you would take this situation seriously,” Edelgard admonished. Claude felt her head shake from behind him. “Our lives are at stake!”

“Fear not my lady, for I shall protect you!” Claude mockingly spoke extravagantly as he fired an arrow at a bandit’s knee, which allowed for Dimitri in the distance to eliminate him. “Your dashing archer is here!”

“Oh? So you can handle all the bandits yourself without my, Dimitri, or the two mercenaries’ assistance? Hmph, I suppose I shall leave you.” Edelgard spoke a bit-too seriously for Claude’s likening. 

He turned around to see that she ran off to follow after the teal haired mercenary whose target is the leader. Claude pouted and whispered under his breath ‘touché’. There was something strange with how Edelgard has been dealing with this situation. It was almost as if she were… reluctant to engage in combat. But it wasn’t the kind of reluctance one experiences having to make their first kill. It was clear to him that she has killed before and was used to it. Why wouldn’t she want to eliminate bandits when their, as she had said to him, lives are at stake? 

A familiar voice calling to him broke his pensive thoughts. Glancing over his shoulder he noticed Dimitri catch up with him.

“Where is Edelgard?” Dimitri inquired worriedly with his blue eyes darting around nervously for the princess.

“Nice of you to show concern for me,” Claude jested dryly. The prince’s glare made him quickly add, “She went ahead with the teal haired mercenary to fight the leader. We better hurry after them!”

With that said Dimitri made a mad dash. Claude stood still for a moment to process once more what Edelgard’s agenda was. She couldn’t have planned for bandits to attack them, for they had camped close to Remire Village. Unless she knew mercenaries were there… Yet if so then if the bandits weren’t sent to kill the lords then what is their purpose? Scare them? Injure them? Distract someone’s attention? The bandits did seem intent on murdering Edelgard so she couldn’t have planned for the deaths of him and Dimitri. Maybe someone else is pulling the strings.

Perhaps he’s being paranoid. 

Shrugging the future sovereign sprinted after Dimitri.

* * *

Having the teal haired mercenary, Byleth, come to the monastery with their famous father, Jeralt the Blade Breaker, was all fine and dandy. Having them meet with the Archbishop in person? Made sense; she wanted to pay respect to the people that saved the three future rulers of Fódlan. Making a mercenary, who really didn’t seem much older than the average student, a new teacher? Well that was startling. Especially when that very person has no prior knowledge of the Church.

And that mercenary is now the professor of the Golden Deer.

My, my how curious, suspicious, and fascinating indeed! 

Claude shook his head at how ridiculous it all sounded as he tended to the plants in the greenhouse. A Fódlanese mercenary unfamiliar with the Church… A famous former knight thought dead now returned… Rhea’s faith in the new professor… Honestly what was he, or anyone, supposed to make of this? Nothing about these elements fit together. It would be quite jarring for people to try and piece it together, but for him he loved a good mystery.

A presence interrupted his thoughts. Glancing over he noticed Edelgard appear by his side to prune some flowers. The way her eyes were observing the area indicated that she wanted to chat with him in private. He shot her a knowing smile.

“The flowers are quite striking,” Claude began, hoping that Edelgard will catch onto his game. 

Edelgard hummed in affirmation as she nonchalantly continued to prune the plants. “Indeed, although not as striking as the news of the mercenary turned professor under the Archbishop’s blessing.”

“A person with no prior knowledge and upbringing of the religion of Seiros,” Claude added as he watered a flower to his right. “This flower is so colourful!”

The imperial princess glanced to the flower. She nodded. “Although not as colourful as this professor’s father’s reputation and history: believed to be dead for twenty one years, only to return with a child.” 

“Leaving the Knights of Seiros and abandoning his position as captain to become a mercenary that avoided the Church…” Claude mused aloud, his eyes narrowed in thought.

Someone tapped his hand. Turning around he noticed that Edelgard held a clipped yellow flower and a dark green blue speckled one to him. Her eyes were still trained on the garden bed. 

“The mercenary decided to lead the Golden Deer even when they have no allegiance to the Leicester Alliance,” Edelgard spoke solemnly. “A strange pair indeed.”

Claude snorted with amusement as he took the two flowers. Placing down his watering can he played with the petals. “Jealous are we, Edelgard?”

“‘Curious’, like any other student here,” she corrected.

Indeed the students displayed incredulous disbelief and flabbergast at the news, but none seemed to wish to investigate the matter. All except for him and Edelgard. Claude isn’t the kind of person used to investigating matters with another. Back at Almyra one had to work alone, otherwise they would be backstabbed. Did the same apply to Fódlan? A pensive frown found itself on Claude’s lips. Emerald eyes regarded Edelgard as she continued to prune as if they never discussed their suspicions. It seems that they are the only two who question the circumstances of the Archbishop’s intentions with the new professor. Yet he did not trust Edelgard enough to place his fate in her, and likewise he could sense the same from her. Claude is going to enjoy their back and forth discussions of not revealing their true intentions but wanting to know that there is another that shares their suspicions.

A silly idea came to him. With a smile he turned and placed the two flowers into Edelgard’s hair. She flinched violently, just like the time he placed a hand on her shoulder, and then turned to him with accusation. Her mouth was open to ridicule him, only for it to clamp when her eyes noticed the flowers in her hair. Claude beamed at his handiwork. A pink blush found itself against her pale cheeks, which made him grin in glee.

“You look cute with those flowers in your hair!” Claude remarked wholeheartedly with a chuckle. “Loosen up and smile and you’ll look utterly adorable.”

Edelgard hummed in embarrassment and looked away. Even if she mumbled about how utterly humiliated she felt she didn’t remove the flowers. That was a win for him.

“How about you pluck some flowers and put it in my hair so we’re even?” He suggested with his award-winning smile.

He expected her to bark out and say how immature he is acting. He certainly did _not_expect her to cut some red flowers and come up to him, tell him to bend his knees so she could reach his head, and place them in his chocolate hair. Claude blinked as he stood up to run his fingers against the red petals. Edelgard looked up at him with a satisfied smile. Claude chuckled whimsically at the two’s peculiar handiwork. Emerald eyes softened as he gazed at the small princess who tried to suppress her giggles. It sounded so musical to his ears that he would love to hear it again. That smile of hers, how her face crinkles in jubilance, is another thing he would love to see more often. 

Well he best be off. But before he leaves he cannot help but gift Edelgard one more little thing. He crouched to pick up the watering can and, after checking to be sure there was still some water, he tipped it over Edelgard. The girl spluttered as water pelted down on her scalp to her face. Miraculously the flowers remained in her hair. When he finished he regarded the now drenched princess that regarded her wet attire with wide-eyed indescribable horror. It took all of his willpower to not go into a hysteric fit.

“Maybe watering you will make you grow taller!” Claude jested with an oh-so innocent smile and wink. 

Before she could look up Claude left the greenhouse. As he dashed out he heard a bellowed ‘_Claude!_’ echo across the area.

* * *

At the market Claude was over the moon when he found a merchant selling Almyran pine needle tealeaves. It was quite pricey, although he supposed he could make an exception for his favourite tea. With a bit of haggling he managed to drop the price, albeit not much, and acquire the tealeaves.

“I hope you are not buying those plants to use for a new poison, Claude.”

Claude turned to see Edelgard approach him with arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. He snorted a laugh at her claim and showed the bag of leaves to wag it in front of her.

“Just buying myself Almyran pine needles to make my favourite tea,” he answered.

That seemed to peak her interest, as indicated by her raised white eyebrows. “Oh? I have never heard of using pine needles to make tea. Is this tea popular in Almyra?” 

“From what I gather from the border patrol at Fódlan’s Throat that allows for Almyran merchants to pass it is,” he lied.

“I confess that I am unfamiliar with Almyran food and beverages,” Edelgard spoke without a shred of humiliation. “Very few merchants ever come to Enbarr.” 

“Would you like to have tea with me then to get a taste of something Almyran?” Claude inquired with a friendly smile. Anything that involved him sharing his secret heritage to another always warmed him. 

She smiled at his offer. Within Claude felt a pleasant feeling ignite in him. This is the first noble he has ever offered Almyran tea who did not recoil with disgust or condemn it from coming from a ‘barbaric’ land. Perhaps there may be a future where Fódlanese can be open to foreign lands and customs. Maybe his dream isn’t as preposterous as he thought. But he was getting too ahead of himself: it is just tea. Yet at the same time most goals start with the littlest things.

“I would be most interested in trying,” Edelgard decreed with a nod. “But before I can join you I must buy some cakes and sweets. I heard some have just come from Enbarr.” 

“Oh you have a sweet tooth, huh?” Claude said with a cocked eyebrow. “I hope you don’t gorge a mountain of sweets as we have tea.”

A blush of humiliation ignited across Edelgard’s face. Who would have ever thought it would be so easy to get the seemingly stoic princess to blush? “I have self-control!”

Claude grinned at her pout and decided to tag along with her as she goes buying sweets for their tea get-together.

* * *

Outside at the usual area where students have tea together the two House leaders sit at an unoccupied table. There weren’t too many students out right now. Claude usually didn’t mind crowds, but when it came to speaking positively of Almyra he didn’t want any disgusted looks thrown at him. He brewed the tea while his guest stacked the sweets. Emerald eyes regarded the princess before him. Quite the duo he thinks with an amused snort.

With the leaves brewed he poured a cup for Edelgard and then himself. He eyed her with anticipation as she blew against the steam and took a sip. She allowed the taste to linger in her mouth.

“A bit bitter for my likening,” Edelgard confessed as she lowered the cup. She exhaled with a relaxed smile. “But the smell of pine needles is wonderful.” 

“Well now you experienced something from Almyra first hand,” Claude stated and meant it with honesty and delight.

He then leaned on his elbows and grew pensive. Edelgard has shown no hostility towards any foreign country or person, such as Petra of Brigid and Shamir of Dagda, so he was curious of her opinions of Almyra. Perhaps she despises such regions and only shows respect to someone like Petra due to Brigid’s position as a vassal of Adrestia. 

“What do you make of Almyra?” He inquired. 

Edelgard appeared to contemplate as she pressed a gloved finger to her chin. Lilac eyes soften. “I have no opinions on Almyra as I do not have any experience with it. I know far more about Brigid and Dagda due to past tensions the Empire had with them.”

“But you have heard of how others speak of Almyra, right? Calling it the ‘land of barbarians’ and a place of ‘backwards people’?” Claude catechised with a tilted head.

Edelgard’s expression grew stern, and Claude had to supress his shock by sipping his tea. “Every country has its good and bad people, Adrestia included. They may have different customs, cultures and religions, but they are human nonetheless. Dismissing them for their differences instead of their character is pitiful.” 

Hearing such words fazed Claude. For the first time coming to Fódlan he was speechless. No other noble, and even commoner, has ever expressed such views of Almyra and other countries. Emerald eyes gleamed with genuine delight. It was so refreshing to meet someone so open-minded in this isolated land. There truly may be hope for Fódlan opening up to the world after all.

“Quite right you are, Edelgard. If only others were more open minded,” Claude commended after taking a bite of a cake. “But alas we live in a close minded society.”

He lowered his treat on a plate and pushed it to Edelgard, uttering that it was too sweet for him. “Would you visit Almyra if you could?”

“As future emperor? If the opportunity arises then I would be interested in forming ties with Almyra, if the people permit me to,” Edelgard answered after, reluctantly, taking Claude’s piece and eating it.

_Maybe you’ll form ties with me as the King of Almyra_. “Don’t worry, Princess; I too would be open to a relationship with Almyra, so you won’t be on your own.”

Edelgard snorted and then watched him with interest. “And what of your views? I know the Alliance has problems with Almyra.”

“True, but I personally think diplomacy would be the best approach to addressing border tensions,” Claude responded, hoping that he didn’t come across as too phony with his performance. “Although many of the lords don’t share my approach.” 

“Then they are the true fools,” Edelgard stated with a twitch of her nose. Even when the tea was too bitter for her she still took a sip. “You are a far wiser man then you let yourself out to be, Claude.”

“And you are not as menacing as you look,” Claude said with a coy smile. “You’re more like an angry puppy than an intimidating future emperor.”

Edelgard growled at him. “I give you a genuine compliment and this is how you express kindness?” 

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” Claude chuckled and winked at her. He then offered her a candid smile. “But thanks for the chat. I enjoy our intelligent conversations.”

She huffed and shook her head, a smile on her face. “You really are an odd one, Claude. But I… enjoy our discussions too.” 

Tea and sweets bring together two strange people. Yet somehow they get along. In fact of everyone here Claude got along with Edelgard the most. Sure there is Hilda but he never had these conversations with her or anyone before. To have these talks made him feel like he belonged in Fódlan, that he isn’t an odd duck. Claude could get used to this. When he finished his tea he stood up and looked at Edelgard with flickering eyes. 

“Would you like to have more discussions like this over tea? Just you and me?” He asked.

“I never thought I would say this but yes, yes I would.”

With a bow he bid her farewell and head off to the Golden Deer dorm. While his smiles tended to be fake or partially pleased Claude found himself smiling with utmost jubilance as he headed to his dorm.


	3. More Mysteries That Leave One Uncomfortable

Chapter 3: More Mysteries That Leave One Uncomfortable

**A/N: Apologise for the wait!**

**PinkROmantic: Am I rushing their relationship a little bit? That was never my intention; the story was meant to be initially 5 chapters so perhaps I sub-consciously wrote it like so. At the same time I wouldn't call it friendship but rather two people interested in one another and trying to learn about the other without giving anything away. Nonetheless I'll keep that in mind :).**

* * *

Claude was not pleased with the turn of events.

It takes a lot to make the future sovereign feel disgusted, especially with how he grew up in a harsh environment where he witnessed men at their worst. Yet today reminded him the worst of humanity. An attempted rebellion led by a minor noble, Lord Lonato, was violently quenched by killing the leader and his followers-followers who were civilians. Taking students out on this mission, even if the intent wasn’t to have them kill, to see what happens to those who cross the Church left his stomach feeling empty and his organs twisted in a mess. To add to that the Church has condemned those of the Western Church by sending the knights to commit pogroms against the followers. The Archbishop ordered this with a content smile, not a shred of empathy or remorse to be seen on her face. 

While composed as always, deep down he felt anger boil in him.

He sat alone in the Golden Deer dorm to contemplate where to investigate the monastery for clues as to what these ‘assassins’ were looking for. Lonato leaving an obvious message to eliminate Rhea could only mean that it was a set up. Really these assassins must underestimate everyone at the monastery to believe that anyone would fall for this dirt-old trick. While Claude still felt revolted by the Archbishop’s actions he couldn’t help but shiver with excitement at the idea of uncovering a mystery. It also distracted his pessimistic thoughts of the Church, so that’s a bonus.

“Shouldn’t you be out investigating what these assassins want from the Church?”

Recognizing that solemn voice he smirked as he turned to be greeted by the familiar pallor skin and steely lilac eyes of Edelgard. Behind his smirk he pondered how she quickly learnt of what his House students were conducting, only to soon come to the conclusion that someone told her. That someone was most likely Lysithea, considering that magical prodigy has been tagging along with Edelgard… or rather Edelgard playing all mother hen with her.

He casually placed his hands behind his head and stretched. A knowing smile crossed his face. “I presume Lysithea told you about it. You sure act like a dotting mother with her; I bet you escort her at night to the latrine!”

Edelgard grumbled something about not being an overbearing mother, causing Claude to snicker at her discomfort. For someone so stoic she can be so easy to tease. 

Edelgard, after recovering from her mild humiliation, smiled haughtily at him. “She has shown interest in joining the Black Eagles. It would do you good to try to convince her to stay with the Golden Deer, considering she is a magical prodigy.” 

At this Claude hissed through his teeth in faux worry and shame. “Lysithea loves me too much to leave, what with my far more charming personality than yours.” When an idea came to mind he added, “Correction: you lack much of a personality.” 

The princess appeared unfazed by his words. “She mentioned that you insult her for her height, an unfortunate thing that she and I share,” Edelgard remarked dryly with narrowed eyes. 

“Well that would be petty of her to join your House just because I point out the facts,” Claude added with a cat-like grin when he noticed how the princess bristled at his words also referring to her.

Of course he knew that, that wasn’t the reason for Lysithea wishing to join the Black Eagles. He remembers seeing how utterly speechless Edelgard was when she first laid eyes on the youngest student. He took notice how the heir avoided coming into contact with Lysithea as if she were the plague incarnate. Every time she looked at the magical prodigy Claude noted a look of immeasurable shame in her expression. Even Lysithea, the spunky girl she is, looked as if she was recalling a traumatising memory seeing Edelgard during the first month of the academy. When the two started to talk Edelgard dogged her around like a chick after their mother (how ironic, with how Edelgard is such a mother) and soon they became friends. There is certainly something about those two girls, with their deathly pale skin, milky-tinged eyes and pure white hair, but alas Claude did not know what. That's a mystery he'll put a pin in for later.

“Anyhow we are going off topic: why are you not investigating the monastery?” Edelgard catechised with her eyes scanning the tanned man for answers. 

“I’m thinking of areas of interest, and what my _deer-_” did the princess roll her eyes at his pun? “-students have told me about the areas they’ve investigated.” 

A white eyebrow cocked at his answer. “And…? What have you deduced?” 

“Whoa there, Princess; wouldn’t want you to steal my thunder and let everyone know my hypothesis,” Claude stated, half-jokingly and half-seriously as his emerald eyes regarded her person. “Don’t want any assassin to overhear and know that their plans are throttled.”

Edelgard hummed, whether out of agreement or annoyance the future sovereign could not decipher. As he regarded her his thoughts regarding his criticisms towards the Church’s dramatic approach to dealing with sinners resurfaced. From previous conversations they’ve had he felt like he had a clear enough understanding of Edelgard’s position of the Church. Certainly she kept some secrets about how deep her condemnation of the institution went, yet he suspected that the basic and clear-cut views she shared with him were truthful. Every student by now has heard of what occurred with Lord Lonato, considering that his adoptive son Ashe had temporarily joined the Golden Deer in eliminating him. Perhaps she shares his views, even if she is known to be pragmatic amongst her peers.

With a finger he curled it to usher her over. Cautious she approached until she was a few metres away from him. He then took a few steps until he was by her side facing the opposite direction.

“The Church is being unapologetically harsh with how it treats those that question it…” He whispered against her ear. From here he could see her ear flinch against his breath.

From the corner of his eye he saw her expression harden in abhorrence. Usually when she was mad she looked like a child trying to be intimidating, yet now with how deep her wrinkles went she looked menacing.

“Committing pogroms against people who just so happen to be associated with the enemy-the Western Church-is abysmal,” Edelgard spat quietly with venom evident in her tone. “To not show a shred of remorse to the civilians that joined Lord Lonato, regardless of their reasons, shows how hypocritical this ‘peaceful’ religion is.”

“The Archbishop sent those followers to their death as if they were kids scolded for stealing some food from the dining hall,” Claude added, his eyes watching outside the dorm to be sure no one was paying the two mind. “‘Harsh’ is too little of a word to explain her actions.”

There was a long pause, and for a second Claude thought they were done being secretive, only for the white haired girl to admit, “Quite a number of my Eagles agree with the sentiment.”

He then placed a hand on her shoulder. She flinched violently like the two previous times he touched her. Yet she quickly relaxed and looked over at him with her expression softened in puzzlement regarding his action. He turned to her with his emerald eyes looking joyous as usual, but on closer inspection there was a solemn glint in them. 

“You best watch yourself, Edelgard~” He warned with a smile so ridiculously sweet that he knew she could see through it to realise how serious he is.

Before she could comprehend what to say he gave her a pat and walked off, calling out how he has an investigation to run. As he wandered out into the grassy fields outside the dorm he contemplated the exchange he had with the future emperor. Somehow he felt like he took an unbearable weight off his chest when talking to her about his condemnation of the Church’s actions. Once again speaking with her made him feel more hopeful about Fódlan’s future. He certainly didn’t want to place his faith on her and a small handful of open-minded people, yet he counted it as a small step to his goal.

* * *

So… the mysterious mercenary now turned professor also _now _happens to possess the ability to wield the legendary sword of Nemesis, the King of Liberation: The Sword of the Creator.

And the Archbishop is more than happy for the professor to not only wield it but keep it.

Okay… How was this not raising more eyebrows? 

In the library Claude read through a handful of books on the legend of the sword to hopefully help his wracked brain figure out if there is a connection between the professor and Nemesis. With a pile of books on his table and how focused he seemed one could easily mistaken him for studying for an upcoming exam. There is an exam coming up but he knew he’d pass even without studying too much. He rested his cheek on his hand as he read through the books about the famous sword. So far nothing revealed to him that Nemesis had a descendant, or that anyone else wielded the sword. Really these books had very little to discuss about the Sword of the Creator… even when the monastery housed the weapon. On top of that the body of Saint Seiros is missing, and in her place was the very weapon Nemesis wielded. 

A splendid mystery indeed, yet the lack of sources frustrated him to no end.

For an old institution that has nearly stood for a millennium it shockingly housed very little content of what came before it. The librarian, Tomas, mentioned to him in passing that Seteth throws books away that were deemed ‘blasphemous’ or ‘out-dated’. Hence, as further explained by the old man, was why there is curfew in the monastery: to allow Seteth to deal with those books and replace them with more ‘suitable one’. In other words censorship. What could the Church be hiding that it deemed too horrific or shocking for the public’s consumption? For a religion that preached freedom of knowledge they sure like to charge their students hefty costs and to keep knowledge selective with the continent’s population. Fódlan could learn a thing or two from Almyra in this regard. 

When he glanced up to crosscheck with another book he noticed Edelgard leaning against a bookshelf with her head caught in a book of her own. Before he could call to her or observe what book she is reading he noticed a rat by her feet. When she felt it she yelped, dropped her book and slammed her back against the bookshelf. A few books fell from the rocked shelf unto the floor, startling the rat and having it leave. To say Claude was stunned is an understatement. There was a look of sheer terror in her flickering lilac eyes, and even from here he could hear her teeth clatter uncontrollably and her breathing grow raspy. He’s seen Hilda and Lorenz freak over rats, but never as violently as Edelgard. This knowledge could be used to his advantage.

Feeling a bit sorry for her he stood up and walked over to help her pick up the books. When she noticed him as she picked up a number of books (he always seems to forget that she’s stronger than she looks) the colour from her face drained.

“Did you see… anything happen?” She mumbled an inquiry, her voice taking an uncharacteristic tone of humiliation. 

A coy smile found itself onto Claude’s face as he stood up and shelved the books. “I can’t say I didn’t,” he confessed with a wink and a laugh.

When he finished shelving Edelgard glared up at him with threatening lilac eyes and a darkened expression. This expression put the previous one she displayed when they discussed their condemnation of the Church to shame. It was a look that fits the cliché term he’s heard Fodlander’s use: a look that could kill.

“If you tell anyone what you witnessed then you will pay with your life, Claude von Riegan…” She threatened maliciously with a snarl.

But he was unfazed by her threat, so he just waved his hand dismissively at her with an oh-so innocent smile. “Princess, please; this little secret is a treat for my consumption only.” 

Knowing that no matter how malevolent she tried to make her expression it will not waver the future sovereign she clicked her tongue in hopes of dropping the topic. Now a pink blush found itself against her pallor cheeks, bringing out her lilac eyes and making her appear oh so adorable. He pinched at the air in front of her cheeks and gave the illusion of squeezing them. She scoffed and looked away, her ears flaring red which made him chuckle at how just a few seconds ago she was being intimidating. After that hilarious incident he pointed to the book she was holding, recalling what he was after. 

“What brings you to the library at this fine hour?”

Edelgard glanced around to see if anyone was around. It is late night, yet there is still time before curfew starts. She then turned to him when she realised it was just the two of them.

“I’m researching about Saint Seiros, considering its been discovered that her body is missing,” she answered and flipped through the pages of her book. She looked back up at him, and noticed from behind him a stack of books. “I presume you are doing some research into the matter as well.” 

With his award-winning grin he ushered her over to his desk, where he brought a chair next to his and sat back down. “It’s only natural to be curious.” 

She sat by him and examined the books with wide eyes, clearly startled by how much he has read through and how much books he has found. He uttered that she doesn’t have to be shy if she wants to go through his books, so she took it as an invitation to skim read them. Claude snatched the book she had chosen herself to read about Seiros. For a while the two sat together silently musing through their book with interest and suspicions. From a distance one could mistaken them for a dastardly duo planning some scheme. Sometimes they would glance at each other to gauge what the other was thinking or what they discovered. Strangely enough Claude felt content with the princess’ company. For a man who grew up being distrustful of those around him, knowing that they could strike anytime, this feeling was welcoming. It isn’t that he trusts Edelgard; rather that he appreciated a person who shares similar views and respects him (well, in her own Edelgard-y ways). 

“The Sword of the Creator…” Edelgard breathed out. Looking over to her he noticed a drawing of the very sword. “It is certainly no mere coincidence that the mercenary that the Archbishop chose to teach can also wield the legendary sword.”

Claude pursed his lips and hummed in agreement. “Your family line has connections to Seiros; is there any information you have that says that she and Nemesis… had an offspring?”

Most would splutter at such a blasphemous presumption, but Edelgard regarded his answer seriously and shook her head. “No, and there are no records to indicate that Nemesis had any children.”

Claude clucked his lips in disappointment. “For a monastery that houses the ‘entirety’ of Fódlan’s history it severely lacks any history before the religion of Seiros became a thing.”

A solemn expression of knitted eyebrows from Edelgard affirmed to Claude that she shared his suspicions. The two then resumed skim-reading the books for any clues or contradictions that could tell more about what happened with Seiros and/or the Sword of the Creator. As the candles started to dim Claude took the initiative to light some new ones. Once done he resumed reading, only to feel after a minute that someone is staring. Glancing up he noticed Edelgard staring at him with slightly wide eyes that expressed awe. He blinked inquisitively at her, too dumbstruck to make a jest or smirk. In this lighting her lilac eyes shun like the finest gemstones, and her pallor skin looked like the finest quality marble. There's no denying that she is beautiful; one must be blind not to see it. Whilst he wouldn't mind staring at her he felt self-conscious about why she was staring at him. Did she suspect him of something, such as keeping knowledge to himself? Is she contemplating whether she can trust him? 

“It’s rude to stare, Princess,” Claude remarked.

She seemed to snap out of some trance. “I… my apologise it’s just… you looked like you were glowing in the candle light.”

Did she just… compliment his looks? 

Had she been staring because she was… enamoured by his appearance?

That tiny blush against her cheeks confirmed his suspicions. Even Claude started to feel his cheeks burn a bit. Hold up-him, blushing? He’s been known to cause women and men to blush with his flirting and jests, but he to blush? Whilst he is a human being capable of blushing why was he blushing? He’s been called as handsome as a god or other exaggerated claims and yet he’s never blushed at such remarks. Somehow some socially inept princess turned his cheeks red with a sloppy compliment. This would have been funny if it was Lorenz or Ignatz, but now he just felt awkward.

Clearing his throat and chuckling (_oh that didn’t sound forced_) he slyly remarked, “Take it all in, Princess, because you can’t touch.” 

Edelgard spluttered and her face lit up like her crimson attire. She instantly turned away from him and resumed reading, her ears still glowing red as if sunburnt. Claude snorted at her reaction, yet he made no further jests as he turned back to his books to contemplate why he had reacted so intensely to her words and stare from before. His eyebrows knitted at the pestering thoughts, agitated that they were distracting him from his crucial investigations. He had just been… startled by her of all people staring and complimenting his looks. That certainly explained his previously blushing cheeks: it was out of embarrassment. But then again for him to be embarrassed is ridiculous, as odd as the professor being able to wield the Sword of the Creator. Perhaps he was starting to feel tired into the night…

More time passed, and the two did not communicate. Whether it was due to their awkward encounter or because they were buried in their books it was hard to tell. Claude felt that the books he skimmed read barely informed him of any value. He already knew this stuff from his grandfather. He looked over at Edelgard to call it quits for the day, only to halt when he noticed some stray white locks fall upon her lightly bobbing head. Seems like she is tired as well. 

“Hold still for a second,” Claude ordered as he leaned over. 

When she turned to him with puzzlement he gently brushed the stray locks out her face. She stared wide eyed, stunned by this unexpected intimate gesture from him. His hand brushed her ear when he tucked the strand behind her ear, earning him a shiver from the girl. Once done he inquired if she wanted to call it quits for the day, but the future emperor stubbornly refused and simply swapped books with him. That earned him a bark of laughter, and without argument he turned and resumed studying. Due to his boredom of reading very similar texts he started to lightly kick Edelgard from under the table. At first she paid him no heed, only to then start kicking him back. She snorted and tried to supress her giggles and looked angered, yet some chocked giggles escaped her. Claude snickered as they continued this childish game for some time.

The two didn’t realize that they fell asleep, with their heads plonked onto the table, their ears pressed against each other’s from atop their books-now-pillows. 

* * *

**A/N: A short chapter, but now that this story will be longer I wish for their character development to feel more natural in progression! Thank you once again for the comments, bookmarks and kudos, and views too!**


	4. Princess and The Schemer

Chapter 4: Princess and The Schemer

* * *

With a cleave the straw dummy fell to the floor in two parts, a haughty smirk appearing on Claude’s face. He flicked his wrist and the sword twirled in his hand as he moved to the next dummy. Normally no one sees the Deer leader wield a sword; he is dubbed the ‘Archer Lord’ for a reason. But he wishes to perfect his sword technique to acquire the Lord class. Quite an odd name for a class, considering he is technically a lord, yet nonetheless it is something he wishes to earn. It would increase his status amongst the Alliance Lords, and make him more charismatic to convince others of his dream of Fódlan and Almyra relations. Preferably he would wish to perfect riding a wyvern, as it is an Almyran right of passage, but he’ll do that after he passes the certification exam as a Lord.

The tanned man looked to his left to observe a fellow Deer ‘train’. Really train didn't do this scene justice. Hilda lazily sliced at the air with her axe as she made exaggerated whines of pain. Beside her Claude noticed Edelgard eyeing her with a deadpan expression that made him snicker. Clearly the princess is not impressed with Hilda’s attitude. Oh it appears that the Eagles leader is wielding a sword. So she must be training to be a Lord too, considering that Dimitri not too long ago was training here and had mentioned to him that he aspired to obtain the Lord class. Perhaps she’d like to spar with him. Slicing up dummies never prepared anyone for a real battle so this would be an excellent opportunity. On top of that it is important to gauge just how skilled she is with a sword. She may become an ally one day… or an enemy. 

“I’m so tired Claude…!” came the whine of Hilda as she sagged her body and made an exaggerated sigh. “I’m calling quits to have some meal at the Dining Hall.”

He doesn’t stop her as she falsely-limps away out the training grounds. Once she left the area he turned to the unimpressed Edelgard. She looked over at him with pensive frown and a cocked eyebrow. 

“You did not plan on scolding her for her laziness and lies? Honestly you make for a poor and incompetent house leader, Claude.” Edelgard ridiculed with a light shake of her head, disappointment written all over her pallor face. 

Claude hissed through his teeth in mock hurt. “Oh how you wound me with your biting words, Princess!” He remarked with a mock pout.

The twitch of her nose indicated that she secretly found his jest funny. “I can’t exactly baby Hilda all the time. Then again you of all people wouldn’t know how not to baby people, with how you annoy everyone with your motherliness.”

“I am not _that_ dotting!” Edelgard insisted with a huff. “Unlike you I care about the wellbeing of my House.” 

“Do you want me to congratulate you…? Is it such a task for the Imperial princess to watch over some people?” Claude jested with smug smile. 

An uncharacteristic sly and knowing smile etched itself onto Edelgard. “I see you are trying to rile me up with childish tactics, which is strangely befitting of someone like you.”

“Oh childish am I? Says the girl who loves secretly gorging sweets in the library when she thinks no one is looking.”

Claude chuckled in triumph at Edelgard’s stunned expression, and the princess scoffed and playfully shoved his shoulder. It warmed him, as odd as that sounds, to be the only person to see a more playful, albeit it awkward, side from Edelgard. He can tell that she hasn’t had any fun in an extremely long time, and that the burden of being the future emperor weighs heavily upon her. There is more to it, oh he can tell with how her lilac eyes always have this wistfulness to them. The way she violently flinches from anyone so much as grazing her arm, how she keeps her distance from others trying to engage with her, she most likely had a rough childhood. Even with his gruelling upbringing he managed to enjoy himself: building sandcastles, playing with his baby wyvern, and messing around with his parents. Whatever her secrets are, interesting as they may be to him, he is genuinely pleased to see her lighten up. 

He circled his sword towards the one in her hand. “So, planning to obtain the Lord class too, huh?”

She glanced down at the weapon and up at him. “Of course; it is only natural for someone of my position,” she answered as if this is factual.

With a coy smile Claude walked backwards to give himself some distance from Edelgard. He raised his sword and pointed it at her, his smile widening and his emerald eyes glistening in challenge.

“How about a duel, Princess?”

She eyed him with curiosity. Gradually she pivoted her body and adjusted her footing to create a battle-ready stance. Lilac eyes gleamed in determination and white eyebrows knitted to highlight such a look.

“I accept your challenge,” Edelgard decreed with sword raised to point back at his. 

An idea came to him, opting for him to grin his pearly whites in jubilance. “Let’s create some stakes. If I win you need to relax and spend some quality time with me for today.” 

This suggestion had nothing to do with him wanting to see her wonderful genuine smiles or hear her whimsical laughs… He just would like to get to know her more so to judge if she would become an ally or enemy to him in the future. That is absolutely the only reason. Okay seeing Edelgard beaming, like whenever she ate sweets or secretly pet the cats and dogs at the monastery, is a fringe benefit.

Edelgard cocked her eyebrow at his offer and snorted in amusement. “An odd request but I agree to the terms. If I win you need to stop teasing me, which includes not calling me Princess or insulting my height, for a week.”

“That would be a nightmare to live through,” Claude stated with a childish pout. A confident smirk adorned his face as he adjusted his stance for battle. “Therefore I can’t lose.” 

When the last syllable was pronounced Edelgard lunged at him. Startled by such speed Claude sidestepped aside, and extended his leg to trip her. She predicated his move and simply hopped over the leg. Without giving her a chance to turn around he swung his sword at her shoulder. But she managed to turn and parry his swing. Giving herself an opening the white haired girl charged to jab his stomach. Yet Claude sneakily raised a knee and made contact with the princess’ stomach. A breathless gasp came from her as she buckled down and brought a hand to clutch her stomach. Playing by the rules never did Claude wonders; survival through any means is how he got to his position. He circled around her and raised his sword to slam it against her back. To his surprise she got down and kicked his shin. An agonised yelp escaped him as he fell forward. A grunt escaped him when he hit his chin on the pavement. This was going to hurt for a couple of days! 

Without delay he somersaulted before Edelgard could pin him down, and quickly launched himself back on his feet. Edelgard stood up and eyed him with flabbergast and admiration. Clearly she hasn’t seen a noble fight like him before: like an animal trying everything to survive. He’s never had to employ such techniques of his harsh upbringing in Fódlan before, so he must say that Edelgard is an impressive fighter. For a princess she doesn’t play nice or hold back. Quite admirable indeed; he may even compliment her.

They kept a safe distance as they circled around each other. From the corner of his eyes he noticed a few students observe them with ardent anticipation. Some students whispered to one another, no doubt making bets as to who will win. Well he best not disappoint his fans. He made careful approaches, occasionally raising his weapon to hit at her direction to confuse her. As she backed away, uncertainty written in her eyes, he then slammed his sword against hers. Right after he then attempted to head-butt her. But she pushed him with her raw strength, which caused him to loosen his defences and flail backwards. Damn it he keeps forgetting how much stronger she looks! She charged at him to knock him off balance. Yet with quick footwork he circled around her as she lunged at him, grazing his sleeve with her sword.

Some in the crowd ‘oohed’ in awe at his quick reflexes, but he didn’t let their impressed calls get to his head. There were some jeers regarding his skin tone, yet those comments did not rile him up. His heart felt warmth when he saw Edelgard shoot a trenchant glare at those insulting him based on his colour, which silenced and scared those rats away. Their blades met, each impact shooting splinters of wood to kiss the pavement. Much to his surprise he felt a smile, a truly genuine one, reach his ears as he fought against Edelgard. This is so much fun. It is wonderful to be treated as a legitimate threat and not as a joke. He is happy.

Edelgard ducked when he made a swing and tackled him with her entire weight. He fell on his back and felt his hips pinned down. He tried to raise his sword, only for the sight of a wooden blade to halt his action. Looking up he noticed Edelgard straddling him with sword pointed at his throat. A solemn look graced her as she stared at him. He could see sweat glisten her forehead and her chest heaving as she panted in exhaustion. He is no better; the sweat ran down his neck and his breath felt hot and dry as he panted. A few people clapped and cheered for the princess, yet she ignored them as she smiled triumphantly at him. 

“I win.”

For a moment he truly believed it. When he remembered the stakes though he decided to play one final dirty trick. With half-lidded eyes and a seductive smile he thrust his hips up. A startled yelp escaped the princess, and her entire face, neck and ears ignited in a brilliant crimson as she spluttered in incomprehensible embarrassment. With her defences down he quickly knocked her sword aside, flipped her on her back, and pinned her down. She blinked up at the sword directed at her throat and at him with incredulous confusion. Her mouth wide agape in shock made him huff a chuckle as he grinned down from his straddled position. Clearly she was having a hard time processing what just happened. A few people called him a cheater but he gave an innocent shrug at their comments. Soon he noticed those that watched the two disperse and leave. With them gone he winked at her and smirked in triumph. 

“Well, seems like I’m the actual winner here,” he said. “That means you’re going to have to spend some quality time with me for today, Princess.”

Edelgard let out a sigh of defeat, although he did detect from her crinkled cheeks that she secretly wasn’t so upset with this loss. That look quickly vanquished when she shot him a glare.

“You… you bucked up at me as if you were-!” she couldn’t even finish her sentence as she whined and her face lit up in humiliation at the thought.

“Sorry to disappoint your fantasy,” Claude jested, yet strangely enough felt his cheeks tint a bit at the thought. 

Why though: he committed the action to throw her off. It wasn’t like he had wanted to have se-oh this was starting to make him feel dirty and mortified. But it didn’t make any sense; this is a technique that he was taught to throw off female thieves, and he has done it without so much as blushing (save for the first time). Is it because Edelgard’s beautiful? No that definitely isn’t the reason. Is it because he enjoys her company? But he enjoys other people’s company. Maybe it’s because he’s never done this technique to an… acquaintance? That made sense; to a acquaintance it’s awkward and strange! 

Edelgard opened her mouth to try and accuse him of something, only for it to clamp shut, and then for her to try to say something again. Being the merciful man he is (and not because he was starting to become self-conscious of the fact that he is straddling her for longer than deemed necessary since this fight ended) he stood up and helped her to her feet. The two then dusted themselves off and placed the wooden swords away.

“You fought well, Edelgard,” Claude commended seriously and offered her a congratulatory handshake. “Not many people hold up against my, as they call it, ‘dirty tactics’.”

Edelgard eyed him suspiciously, expecting him to pull off a joke, only to then smile and shake his hand. “A fight is a fight; in a real situation no one would use honourable conduct.”

“Took the words out of my mouth,” Claude acknowledged with a nod. A jubilant grin flashed across his face. “When the next meal break happens meet me at the library for our quality time of whimsical wonders!” 

“I suppose I have to keep up my end of the bargain, Schemer.”

Hearing that nickname made him visibly beam and smirk. “Schemer?”

“That is precisely what you are, and since you love calling me by a ridiculous nickname I have every right to give you one,” Edelgard explained so factually that it would convince everyone to call him Schemer.

“Jokes on you, Princess, because I actually like the sound of it,” Claude stated as he slowly started to make his leave to head to class. “But then again you like it when I call you princess.”

He ignored her protest as he left the training grounds. As he thought about the nickname a genuine smile appeared upon his face. Huh, that’s the second time today that Edelgard brought a sincere smile to his face. No one has made him feel this pleased, not in Almyra and certainly not in Fódlan. That princess has an aura, and it would seem that it extends to him. He ought to be more vigilant around her. As long as he gets to be around her though then that benefits him. Once more it has nothing to do with how adorable she can be, nor how she is the only person here who has intelligent conversations with him and shows genuine interest outside of old dated customs. He must gauge her as an individual to see how she will lead Adrestia, and thus how she may or may not interfere with his ambitions. She may become his enemy or ally. 

Personally he would like it if she becomes an ally. 

* * *

Indeed she kept to her word, as Claude noticed her arrive from looking up from the book he was reading. She eyed him warily, no doubt expecting that he would request that they get up to no good. Well she certainly is not too far off. With an oh-so innocent smile he lowered his book, placed it away into the nearest bookshelf, and approached her. Before she could inquire he gently took her hand and lead her to a part of the library where they could talk in private. For once she doesn’t flinch at the touch, because he had slowly extended his hand to give her the opportunity to back away. He certainly loves teasing her and getting her flustered, but even he knew when to respect boundaries.

In a corner away from prying monks’ eyes he lets go of her hand and beamed down at the smaller person. “Ready for some whimsical shenanigans, Princess?”

Lilac eyes narrowed accusingly towards him. “I will not vandalise the library if that is what you are going to suggest.”

Claude pressed a finger to his chin, contemplating the correct use of words to explain that his idea is not vandalism but that it does involve antagonising a third party. He raised his hands to indicate for her to wait here, and then he power-walked away to find a specific shelf. Once he found it he fingered a few book spines, picked out a few and then went back over to Edelgard. He showed her a few titles, ranging from ‘The Teachings of Seiros’ and ‘The Religion of Fódlan’. She tilted her head to the side, clearly unsure where he was going with this.

A devious smirk adorned his face, and his emerald eyes gleamed to further emphasis his mischievous side. “You and I are going to put these books in the fictional section of the library.”

Lilac eyes shot up at that declaration. Much to his surprise though she tried to supress her snickers by hiding her mouth with a gloved hand. She then cleared her throat to regain her composure. But nope he noticed the gleam of childish joy in her eyes just a moment ago and he wasn’t going to drop it. A knowing grin must be on his face judging by her face scrunching up to try and remain austere. 

“This is a rather childish suggestion…” She admonished, yet noticed her bite her lips.

“Princess, we both know that these books weren’t written by Seiros herself,” Claude insisted with his eyebrows wriggling to tempt her to join him. “We’re just… ‘correcting’ the library.” 

Edelgard could not help but let out an amused snort, and for a second a smile crossed her face. Without a word she offered out a hand and made a ‘come on’ gesture to hand him a few of his books. He could not help but grin with puerile thrill as he handed her a few books. The two then nonchalantly walked towards the fiction section, their faces appearing as solemn as the lords that they are. From the corner of his eyes he spied on the monks to see if they were too busy nattering or cleaning the dust off the stairway. With the coast clear he whispered to Edelgard to take out some books and swap them for the ones in her arms. He kept glancing over his shoulder to see if anyone was growing suspicious of their activities. She tapped him on the shoulder to indicate that she is done, and that he can now swap with his own books. As he took out some books and swapped with his a stupid grin found itself on his face. Who would ever think that he would be messing around in the library with Edelgard of all people? Although she will deny it till the day she dies Claude notices through occasional glances how happy she is. A smile that reached her eyes, those beautiful lilac eyes that glowed so brightly as if they are gemstones in a wall. Even with him as a schemer he rarely retorts to such silly and trivial games such as swapping books. The two of them acting so immaturely like teenagers… the teenagers they are. 

Someone called out to inquire why there are a few books on the floor. Quickly the two lords stood up and turned to a monk that glared at them. His nose crinkled in disgust towards the books plonked on the floor. Claude simply smiled warmly at the man of the cloth, while Edelgard eyed the monk coolly.

“We were sorting out some books, for it would seem that some troublesome student or students had misplaced the books in this shelf,” Edelgard answered with such unwavering conviction that for a second Claude believed her lie. 

“Before hand we wanted to borrow some books to study together, but then we found the ghastly sight of misplaced books!” Claude added with crossed arms and a grave nod. “Edelgard and I shall handle this mess; it is such a trivial task not meant for a fine man of the cloth.”

To no surprise at all on Claude’s part the monk fell for the two’s words and uttered his gratitude, and then walked away. At the same time the two turned to each other. They suppressed their laughter through puffed cheeks. Without a word they kneeled to pick up the fictional books, and then they stood up and, with no one looking at them, they placed the books onto the table and sauntered out the library. Once out and far from earshot range they chortled at their antics. Claude commended Edelgard for lying with a straight face, and the princess complimented him with how surprisingly convincing he was. She shook her head as she muttered at the fact that somehow he of all people convinced her to commit such a silly act. Even if she pretended it was something trivial she kept giggling. 

Hearing Edelgard’s laughter is wonderful.

* * *

Late into the hour and Claude realised he had to hightail out the library before curfew starts. He walked down the corridor up to his room with a few books in hand. While he found nothing extrodinary about Seiros or the Sword of the Creator he found a handful of books about Almyra from a Fódlander’s views. He hoped that by reading through these books from racist authors that he can learn how to convince such bigoted people that Almyrans are people. After all Fódlan is isolated from the rest of the world, thus creating an atmosphere of ignorance. Unfamiliarity leads to fear, and this is something he needs to address.

“Don’t you touch him!_ No, no, please!_” 

He came to a halt. Startled he remained completely still as he listened to recognise whose voice that was. More screams echoed, feminine sounding ones, along with the subtle sound of thrashing about. Sounded like someone was having a nightmare. Slowly he paced down the corridor to listen closely to what was being said. As the noises grew louder he then recognised the voice: Edelgard. Dumbstruck he moved to her door and pressed an ear to it. Whimpers of incomprehensible agony could be heard, sounds that sent shivers down his spine and left him speechless. Whilst he has rarely been on tasks involving dealing with bandits he knows that she is a strong-minded individual. Nothing ever appeared to falter her strength; no overwhelming odds like when they had met the professor-prior-mercenary, seemingly nothing. Yet the crying and whimpering sounded so bloodcurdling that she sounded as if she is being tortured.

He listened carefully against the door. She was begging to someone (or to persons?) to leave some people alone, boys and girls, people close to her. Some of the names he couldn’t make out, but he distinctly heard ‘sister’ coupled with a few ‘little brother’. She isn’t an only child? Everyone has been told that she is an only child; even his grandfather informed him that the Imperial princess is a single child. So she, or rather the emperor her father, has supressed knowledge about other blood relatives. Judging by the begging and screaming something horrific must have happened to the siblings. Yet even so why hide such knowledge? What could be gained by not telling the world about the tragic deaths of the siblings/children? Unless someone of higher power-but who is higher than the emperor?

The Church… 

Perhaps he is jumping to conclusions… yet it explained why she held a disdain for the Church. But why would the Church murder heirs to the Adrestian throne? Wasn’t Adrestia created and blessed by Seiros herself? He tried to pry more from her whimpering yet she kept repeating the same beseeching cries of mercy over and over, with the only differences being the names of the siblings. It would seem that he can’t acquire any more information on her. Nonetheless this information could play a vital role in his rise to power. If he dug enough he should be able to find out more about her past, thus better assisting him in judging her as a future ally or enemy. For now though her agony was starting to make his heart leap in sympathy. He ought to knock on the door to wake her up, and then make a mad dash to his room before she found out it was him. With one hand he banged against her door, and instantly rushed to his room. He didn’t check to see if she had had awakened. Yet when he had just reached his room he had heard the screams cease. It seems that these nightmares are frequent, meaning that he’ll have to be the one to wake her up so no one else can eavesdrop. Once he confirmed that she had nothing else to say (or scream) in her nightmare he’d wake her up and head to his room.

Everyone is a winner then.

* * *

“You look like you had no sleep what so ever, Princess.”

Edelgard eyed him blearily with lightly bloodshot eyes from the tea table they shared. Claude had made a tea that assists one in recovering from a sleepless night for her, in which she is grateful for. He could tell from this proximity that she had applied makeup under her eyes to hide the dark circles.

“Perhaps I studied a bit too long into the night,” Edelgard uttered after taking a sip of her tea. “It is a habit that Dorothea constantly tells me to break out of.” 

_Of course_. Claude just nodded and sipped his tea. Emerald eyes lit up when he recognised the tea that Edelgard made for him: Almyran pine needles. 

“You bought me Almyran pine needles?” Claude inquired, flabbergast written over his wide eyebrows and blinking eyes.

She seemed equally surprised. “You said it was your favourite tea, so of course I’d buy it. We have been having these tea discussions for some time now.” 

A real mystery she is, and people think he’s unusual. She can be as solemn as a god but also strangely sincere in her actions and presentation. He and others have noticed how she brought a tray of food to the shy noble’s dorm, Bern-something, to make sure she eats. Yet he has also seen her show no mercy during training with her mighty axes. Sometimes he sees her watching students with a longing to join them, only to keep her distance. Oddly enough he sees himself in her with such actions and presentations. 

He let out a coy smile and leaned on his hands. “So you see me as a friend?” 

Edelgard hummed in contemplation and regarded him carefully. Clearly this is something that she hasn’t thought about, even when they natter over tea nearly everyday. Come to think of it does he view her as a friend? Friendship, legitimate friends, is a foreign concept to him. So-called friends in Almyra have backstabbed him as far back as he can remember, and even a year into Fódlan has had him nearly assassinated by supposedly close allies. As charismatic as he can be he has trust issues. The same could be said for Edelgard. They both have trust issues. Both have views that are blasphemous and thus are the odd balls of their respective society.

Regardless they have formed a bond of sorts. Whenever Edelgard had to conduct tasks with someone from another House she _always_ chose to do it with him. He loves having intelligent conversations with her over tea and in the Dining Hall. They both love learning about the outside world through get togethers at the library, or sparking conversation with merchants from afar. She makes him smile, truly smile, with her mannerisms, and he seems to be the only one to see her face light up and hear her whimsical laughs. The deer and eagle have more in common than both may have realised. 

If that isn’t friendship then what is? 

“I… I suppose this is the closest thing to friendship,” Edelgard finally confessed after much deliberation. A coy smile appeared from behind thin steam. “Even if you are an enigma, Schemer.” 

Claude chuckled and rested against his chair with a grin. “Charming as ever, Princess.”

There may come a time when they may be bitter enemies so he best to make the most of this friendship. 

* * *

**A/N: The library idea was inspired by a fan art I saw once of Edelgard and Claude putting the Bible in the fiction section. Also while Claude is not perceived as Almyra people associate tanned skin with 'impurity'. **


	5. A Fight With a Thief, Turned (Literal) Monster (Part I)

Chapter 5: A Fight With a Thief, Turned (Literal) Monster (Part I)

**A/N: This story has more than a 1000 views!? I hope the Edelclaude agenda is starting to convince people of the brilliance of the ship! Even if I convinced one person of Edelclaude I am more than happy! Edelclaude seems to be garnering more popularity.**

**This chapter turned out longer than anticipated, so I broke it into two parts!**

* * *

The news of a thief having stolen a Hero’s Relic horrified many. An ancient weapon, blessed by the power of the Goddess, taken and claimed by a delinquent! For Claude though the news piped his interest. According to what he had read those not bearing the Crest of a said weapon cannot wield its power. To one not with a Crest it is just a fancy looking weapon. Yet that is not the interesting aspect. What is the fascinating part of this news is that the thief is the brother of Sylvain Gautier, a student who bears the Gautier Crest, whereas the eldest brother does not.

Spite and jealousy… intriguing indeed!

To add to this dish of fascinating ingredients is that the Archbishop ordered that the two other House leaders’ and their selection of four students accompany the Golden Deer. It seems overboard and quite extreme for a mission involving taking down the thief’s leader, Miklan, and his band of delinquents. The man can’t use the holy weapon, so why bring extra support? On top of that a Knight of Seiros with years of experience, an old man by the name of Gilbert, is accompanying them. _Another_ _thing_ to top off is that the professor is coming along… the same one who can wield the Sword of the Creator. Are they going to fight some terrifying monster of biblical proportions, or are they going to fight a band of thieves? Really calling this extra assistance overboard is being generous.

Currently he and everyone stood at a campfire a couple hundred metres away from a tower where the thieves are located. Glancing to his sides he examined Edelgard and Dimitri’s chosen students accompanying them on this mission. On the Blue Lions there’s Sylvain with his horse, Mercedes as designated healer, Annette the black magic user, and Felix the swordsman. On the Black Eagles there’s Ferdinand with his horse (‘mighty steed’ as he called him), Linhardt the lazy healer, Bernadetta the timid archer, and Caspar the fist-fighter. Dimitri nattered with his students and Gilbert (interesting… seems they know each other), and soon he, with the Blue Lions in tow, followed the old knight. Judging by the direction they are heading towards they are conducting reconnaissance. He then turned to Edelgard, where the princess went through the mission once again with her fellow Eagles. He very much would like to get her opinion on this mission, for he noticed how puzzled she had appeared when the Archbishop announced that the House leaders will band together for this.

Noticing the fire dying out, thus enacting the perfect excuse to speak to her in private, he emitted a sigh. “Seems we need more firewood!” Catching everyone’s attention his emerald eyes gleamed directly towards Edelgard. “Hey Princess, come help me gather some extra wood!”

Lilac eyes glinted in understanding as she told the Eagles to stay put, and then she followed after the tanned man. When he lead her to an area far from earshot of the group-but not too far so to not be potentially ambushed by thieves in the bushes-he turned to her with a solemn expression. They have known each other for months, thus the two have grown comfortable, although Edelgard will never admit it, to sharing their views and for Claude to show his ‘uncharacteristic’ serious side.

“The Archbishop is going _quite~_ overboard with a mission that simply involves taking down a bunch of thieves and retrieving a Hero’s Relic that can’t even be used,” Claude began, his eyebrow cocked at how sillier it sounds saying his thoughts aloud.

Edelgard nodded in agreement, her eyebrows knitting in frustration. “It is indeed odd… unless she is keeping some information to herself.”

A proud grin encompassed Claude’s face: she understands where he is getting at. “Correct you are, Princess! Now the question is what she’s keeping from us to warrant a large group of people attacking a band of thieves.”

“I doubt it has to do with there being more thieves than she had let out,” Edelgard said with confidence. She snorted at an idea. “Nor do I believe that this is some group building exercise.”

Claude smirked at her comment. “Oh, you don’t like being with me? Are you afraid that you’ll be awed by my skills and realise how much you are lacking?”

She huffed a laugh and shook her head at his claim, and a sly smile etched itself upon her face. Lately he’s been seeing her smile more, something that seems only reserved for his eyes. For some reason it brings him… warmth. It is odd, considering he has seen many of his friends smile and bring him a sense of joy, yet for some reason they don’t evoke this feeling of affection when it is Edelgard. Even when she has the dorkiest smiles, the kind that indicate that she hasn’t been rapturous let alone merely happy, the warmth that blossoms in him is something he can’t compare it to. Hold up; why is he getting so caught up with the princess’ smiles? That is trivial compared to this mystery at hand!

“Perhaps it is _you_ who should be worried about how you are lacking compared to my skills,” Edelgard rebuked as she beamed confidently up at him (her small height is adorable too-wait, why is he thinking-!?). “My axe would be able to cleave your bow with a swift strike.”

“Not unless I shoot you from afar, or use my crafty sword skills to combat your axe,” Claude argued back, standing taller to appear more, playfully, intimidating. “Did you forget about the Weapons Triangle already, Princess? Tsk, tsk, and here I thought you’re one of the Academy’s finest student!”

She snorted at his claim and crossed her arms, a confident smile adorning her pallor face. “It will take more than that to rile me up, Schemer.”

Claude planned on making another jest, only to halt and regard her arms. With her arms crossed, and her clad (along with all the House leaders) in the Lord clothing, he noticed scars decorate the exposed skin from the elbow to the glove. There are so many faded wounds, most appearing strangely precise that it cannot be sword slices. Even if they were old sword wounds there seemed too many scars for mere assassination attempts. As his eyes regarded the arms he took notice of the exposed lower thighs that too are adorned in plenty of faded scars. It explained why she had been so adamant of wearing her standard uniform even during the hot summer days at the Academy. Why hasn’t she gotten her scars healed though? Is this something to do with the silly prideful notion of ‘scars remind me of my failures’ that he heard from old warriors? Knowing Edelgard that makes sense, yet there is a nagging part that pesters him that there is more to that. Interestingly the precision cuts remind him of surgical scars. Perhaps, if he eavesdrops again during her nightmares he’ll piece the scars, this horrific incident involving her and her siblings, and her disdain of the Church.

Knowing that she will pick up on him staring at her scars he decided to play a game to fool her. He whistled in admiration and smiled respectfully at her. “Damn Princess with arms like yours you could carry me if I become injured!”

Pallor ears ignited a brilliant red, and soon the red spread to Edelgard’s cheeks and neck to resemble severe sunburns. Lilac eyes shot up in flabbergast, and the splutter she couldn’t suppress echoed her embarrassment. Innocently he rested his hand atop the exposed skin to run his fingers across the biceps. In all honesty he isn’t lying by complimenting her arms: she has quite muscular arms, and even her thighs are well built. When she had straddled him during their duel he felt how powerful her thighs were pressed down against his hips. He’s never met a princess with an athletic stature.

Beautiful and strong… a stunning combination.

Seeming to forget why he had complimented her in the first place he then retracted his hand, and then tentatively pressed it to her stomach. Ah, so she has a toned stomach as well. His fingers brushed against it. My, my, her abs are more defined than some of his own Deer (really he is thinking of Lorenz). Even with her nervous stuttering and red face, which radiated so much that the sun paled in comparison, and her history of being extremely jumpy around people touching and/or grazing her, she did not stop him. Emerald watched her face to see and gauge if he is making her uncomfortable. Nothing about her face indicated outrage or uncomfortableness. He could feel how dilated his pupils have grown. Goddess he can feel blood rush to his groin-

Reminding himself why he complimented her he pulled his hand back and let out an uncharacteristic nervous chuckle. He turned away from her to brush the back of his neck, while Edelgard cleared her throat to ease the awkward exchange that occurred. Black eyebrows knitted in confused dander, and his irritation increased when he felt a red blush spread across his tanned cheeks. What has gotten into him? Why is he acting like some typical teenager? This is silly, pitiful even, for someone like him. Perhaps it is just one of those days… of what he can’t pinpoint. Guess he can’t be immune to the wonders of being a teenager. Regardless this is to be a onetime incident. Hopefully she won’t bring this up to her retainer, otherwise he will murder him in his sleep…

“We should get the firewood before anyone thinks we’re doing something else-”

Oh and he just had to make the situation worse-!

He visibly whined and grimaced at hearing Edelgard scoff out a pathetic strangled noise at his unintentional implication. She stomped pass him, muttering that they should hurry, and all he could do was follow after her like a dismayed dog with his tail between his legs. 

* * *

Gilbert highlighted what he and the Blue Lions scouted around the tower. Apparently all the thieves are inside the construct, meaning breaking in won’t be a problem. Dimitri mentioned that, judging by how close he got into the tower, there is a substantial number of thieves, and that judging from their whispers expressing caution, Miklan is aware that the knights have found his base.

“It still seems pointless that we needed to come here,” Felix scolded, referring to the Blue Lions and Black Eagles. His expression soured. “They are simple vermin.”

“If the Archbishop commands it then we must abide,” Dimitri chimed, yet the way his frown deepened indicated that he too is confused by this arrangement. A smile then beamed from him when he turned his attention to the other leaders. “Besides it gives us an opportunity to build relations with the other Houses!”

That prince’s endless energy of positivity is both silly and admirable. It is also quite irritable now that the future sovereign thinks about it; it is so sweet that it sounds fake. There is something off about that blond boy, yet even after months at the Academy Claude could still not pinpoint what. He simply smiled and winked at the Blue Lions and Black Eagles, whereas Edelgard offered respectful nods to the other Houses.

“Well then we best not keep them waiting,” Claude announced with his award-winning charismatic grin.

Lorenz turned to his House leader with a deadpan expression. “And walk into an ambush? Really Claude how reckless of you.”

“I doubt you wish to walk in blind,” Edelgard chimed in before Claude could make a remark to Lorenz. “Unless you wish to have us all killed then I presume you have a plan.”

Emerald eyes gleamed at the princess: she knows him too well. “In all honesty we can’t do much in that tower; judging from the reports there are tight corridors with little leg room for us to move around.”

He observed everyone to indicate that he seeks their undivided attention. “On top of that the upper level has some gaping holes in the walls to allow archers to strike,” he continued, “They know that tower more than we do, so they’ll know how to use it to their advantage.”

Hoping to show people a visual he crouched, picked up a twig, and began drawing on the dirt. He drew a rectangle to indicate a wall and then a few stick figures on the rectangle to represent the archers. After that he drew a few stick figures beneath and right up against the rectangle: the students.

“If we’re pressed along the wall then the archers won’t be able to strike us,” he explained as he then drew some other crude figures. “Horse riders will be at the front to scout ahead; designated healers, archers and magic users in the middle to be protected, and everyone else will be at the back and front.”

“I want to be at the front!” exclaimed the excited voice of Caspar. The princess scolding him for treating this as a game brought a tiny smile to Claude’s face.

Claude stood up and pointed the twig at Edelgard and Dimitri, and then to himself. “Us three will lead with the horse riders by our sides. If I see anything coming up I’ll shoot them down, while you two finish them off.”

Dimitri frowned at how nonchalant Claude sounded about killing the thieves. “Are you skilled enough in the sword to fight back against a thief that gets in too close?”

The tanned boy could not help but scoff out in mock hurt. To further exaggerate his hurt he pouted and placed a hand to his chest. “You think I’m stupid? You hurt me, Your Princeliness!”

From the corner of his emerald eyes he noticed Edelgard try to hold back a snicker. Dimitri spluttered that he had not intended to come across crass (gullible too; how could he possibly become a good king?), in which Claude simply waved dismissively at him.

“You specialise in lance, Edelgard in axe, and I am capable of using my sword, thus with us at the front we can break through any defences,” Claude further highlighted, his confidence clearly having effect on everyone (including the usually tart Lorenz) around him.

Claude asked if anyone objected to his plan. A few questions were thrown about potential ambushes from behind, in which the future sovereign explained that the back unit and Gilbert would handle it. Some wondered if one of the leaders should be at the back, yet Claude insisted that if worse comes to worse the two horse riders will rush to the back and help out. With that finalised everyone began packing their equipment. Swords were sharpened with whetstones, concoctions prepared and packed, and quivers fastened at the back. Claude twirled with his arrows, his eyes gleaming back at him from the reflection at the tip, and then he placed them into his quiver that he then fastened. Looking over his shoulder he noticed Edelgard test her axe by giving it a few swings. It is incredible how effortless she appears when swinging an axe, and one-handed no less! Handling an axe was always too cumbersome for him. When she stopped she looked up and noticed him observing her. She shot him one of those awkward yet genuine smiles of hers. That darn silly smile of hers made his heart flutter. But he remained composed as he smiled back at her.

With everyone ready they got into formation. Dimitri appeared by Claude’s left and Edelgard by his right. Once certain that the formation is correct he turned forward and commenced the march and attack upon the tower.

* * *

Inside the tower the group immediately pressed themselves against the wall of the upper level. So far no archer has dared to fire from the gaping holes, much to the relief of everyone and to Claude’s proud satisfaction. Dank air tickled against Claude’s nostrils, and it prickled the others tagging along which resulted in some _achoos_. Stealth is the least of his concerns; the thundering footsteps of a large group of people and horses against frail and wobbly bricked road annihilated subtlety. A few people nearly tripped against the uneven pavement, which resulted in Professor Byleth instructing everyone to watch their step. Although the area is dimly lit due to dying torches and celestial moonlight through holes in the ceiling everyone can see. The horse riders were instructed to scout ahead (while still sticking close to the wall), in which they carefully trotted ahead with lances raised. One of Claude’s hands caressed the hilt of his sword; the other tapped his bow and an arrow closest to it. To his left Dimitri tapped the butt of his lance along the ground, his blue eyes watching the holes for any archer prepping to fire. On his right Edelgard stared ahead with a steely gaze and her mighty axe by her side. He moved a little closer to her so that only her ears will hear what he has to say.

“Miklan has the Lance of Ruin,” he began. He noticed her ear twitch against his breath. “Since you’re the _axe-pert_ I trust you’ll lead the charge against him.”

She snorted and chuckled at his pun, only to quickly place back her façade before anyone else could notice how her lilac eyes crinkled or how she is capable of smiling. Such sights really are reserved for him, and for that he always feels victorious and jubilant. Edelgard gave a nod, which he then tapped her shoulder to express his confidence, and then he moved away to stand evenly between the leaders.

“You and Edelgard seem close.”

Claude turned to Dimitri to see the prince offer a knowing smile as he glanced between the two. The princess had moved a couple of metres ahead the two lords so she had not heard Dimitri’s comment. Even when the prince is smiling honestly there is a sullen glint in his eyes, and it no doubt has to do with his ‘relationship’ with Edelgard. Whether it is romantic or not the future sovereign is unsure, considering that Edelgard showed no signs of knowing the prince personally, but it something he has put a pin on.

“Nah, we just have some things in common,” Claude acknowledged with a shrug. It is the truth, yet he certainly isn’t going to elaborate with the blond.

“It seems to be more than that,” Dimitri insisted with a dismissive, but not unkind, shake of his head. “You two play board games, train together, and seem to spend plenty of time just shared between yourselves. Surely that seems close, yes?”

A strained smile that falsely expressed content etched itself unto his tanned face. He turned away to observe the princess’ back. This relationship they have is sincere enough to not feel like courteous acquaintances that simply respect one another to conduct their rule. What the prince listed them doing is indeed correct, and his allusion to Edelgard enjoying his company does ring true. There is no denying they have become friends. Not too long ago they acknowledged one another as friends. Still that doesn’t mean they are necessarily close. Sure his heart seems to, strangely enough, flutter when she smiles or laughs; yes he always seeks her company whenever he did not need to be alone, and okay he flirts with her. Perhaps he may be confident enough to call her his best friend. That can’t be, considering Hilda is his best friend. Hilda makes him laugh, yet she doesn’t bring this peculiar warmth to him that Edelgard does. But people can have more than one best friend… especially one that brings out this genuine side he thought had died long ago.

If Edelgard isn’t his, or another, best friend then what is she to him?

Before he could ponder further the sound of galloping hooves shattered his thoughts. He blinked out his trance and noticed Lorenz and Leonie rush up to him. At close range the two horses reared as their masters told them to halt.

“Axe and sword wielding thieves around the corner!” Leonie explained. “There also appeared to be some mage keeping a careful distance.”

Before the Deer Leader or Lion Leader could utter a command someone shouted from the back of the formation that a couple of thieves have appeared from the lower level. This is what Claude had expected. He called out his orders to Leonie to backtrack to assist the back group, and Dimitri commanded Sylvain to follow pursuit. Everyone in the middle huddled close, with the archers notching their arrows to fire those trying to ambush from behind and the black magic users creating sizzling bolts across their fingertips. Gilbert took command of the back row as he waddled in his armour to launch an attack on the ambushers. Claude then glanced at Edelgard, and immediately when their eyes met she understood what he requested. He ordered Hilda to come join him, and Edelgard requested Caspar’s assistance, and then the four along with Ferdinand moved ahead of the group with Dimitri closely behind to not engage with the axe wielders.

Rounding the corner three axe wielders rushed up to the group. With Edelgard taking charge Claude side-stepped along the princess’ side to notch an arrow. The future emperor blocked a blow from one of the thieves lowering an axe overhead, in which he then fired an arrow when she tilted her head to the right. The arrow struck the thief in the head, instantly killing the man that soon fell to the floor. Edelgard looked over her shoulder and shot a smile of gratitude, and the archer grinned and winked back. From his peripheral vision he noticed a man, or rather a pulp of meat, collapse, and his ears heard Caspar cheer. A familiar grunt diverted his attention to the armoured Hilda slam a man against the wall with her axe. She spluttered in disgust at the sight of the bleeding man and broken teeth, a reaction that brought a sly grin to Claude. Up ahead a few swordsmen tried to ambush the horse riders from the opposite wall. Lorenz intercepted one by piercing his lance through the attacker’s chest. Ferdinand’s horse was startled, but the ginger quickly leapt off his steed to deal with the swordsman on foot.

Even over the clash of steel, the cracking of pavement and walls, and the sizzling magic, Claude heard something notch above him. Glancing up he noticed an archer take aim at the oblivious Ferdinand fighting against the swordsman. His horse had galloped away, leaving the man exposed to the archer’s line of sight with nothing to shield him. Before Claude could call to the man Edelgard dashed to his aid. Emerald eyes shot up in alarm. His heart, which had been thudding due to exertion, somehow increased its beating tenfold. A crushing feeling of terror of the likes he has not felt since being a child striving to survive in Almyra consumed him. His breath left his lungs panting for air, cool sweat penetrated his palms beneath his gloves, and his ears rang as if some grappler decked him in the face. 

“Heads up Edelgard-!” 

She turned and the arrow fired.

Thankfully with quick reflexes she raised her pauldron to block the arrow. Immediately after Claude left the safety against the wall, turned around, and fired an arrow through the gaping hole. His marksmanship proved successful, as he heard the chocked scream of the archer fall and the _clank_ of his bow drop. Turning around to regard the princess he noticed that Dimitri had quickly came to assist Ferdinand in eliminating the swordsman. Edelgard regarded the dent in her pauldron so nonchalantly as if someone noticed a fly against them. Recalling that they’re in the open Claude grabbed her free hand and pulled her back to the wall. There he carefully regarded her, only to then quickly put a façade of him appearing unfazed by the near miss.

“Could have been shot in the back and paralysed, Princess!” He chuckled, albeit it way too obviously nervous, as a crooked smile found itself on his face. Not convincing at all. 

Through her heaving and panting her expression softened and her lilac eyes gleamed, giving the impression that she felt touched by his consideration. He noticed that he still clung to her hand, so he carefully retracted it from it. To his utmost incredulous disbelief she took back his hand and gave it a confident squeeze. She smiled knowingly up at him, her eyes crinkling and eyes glinting to match how self-assured she looked. He couldn’t muster a haughty smirk, nor could he utter a jest at how uncharacteristically affectionate she is being. All he could do is blink.

“I have you to watch over me.”

Those words left him speechless.

After saying those words she let go of his hand and instructed him to keep moving. Breaking out of his daze he followed pursuit. A mage had been disposed of thanks to the efforts of Lorenz, and most of the archers on the upper level have been wiped out thanks to Bernadetta and Ignatz. As a number of the group rounded the corner some door opened to the right and out came a horde of thieves wielding swords and axes. Claude noticed Edelgard quickly pull Caspar back before the ambushers could slice the boy down. At this proximity Claude placed his bow away, retrieved his sword, and rushed to join Raphael with keeping those thieves away from the magic users. He engaged with an axe wielder, in which the tanned boy used his quick footwork to dodge the thief’s blows to twirl and pierce him through the gut. Someone grunted behind him, so Claude quickly turned to see that Edelgard had slammed her axe against a thief that had tried to sneak up behind him to stab him. Noticing a sword wielder attempting to take the opportunity to strike the princess’ blind spot, Claude grasped the future emperor’s nearest shoulder to launch his weight at the thief. By doing so the sword wielder fell to the floor with Claude straddling the man to keep him down. Before the thief could let out a curse Claude lowered his sword through the bandit’s head and ended his life instantly.

Claude stood up and turned to Edelgard. “Guess I have the Imperial princess looking out for me!” He remarked with a mischievous smile and wink.

She snorted, the corners of her lips curling ever-so slightly into a smile. “Now we are even.”

Emerald and lilac gleamed knowingly at one another. The two then instantly resumed assisting in eliminating the ambushers. Sweat glistened across Claude’s forehead, and his small braid flicked some of the beads across his face every time he moved to dodge or strike an opponent. His arms burnt from overexertion due to using his sword and bow, and even his legs started to ache from muscles being pulled from sharp movements against the pavement. Huffs and puffs escaped through gritted teeth, yet he could not afford to appear tired in front of everyone. A few small scars and tears in his uniform indicated that he is not invincible in combat. There are dents in his pauldron from when he used it to slam someone against a wall and from blocking axe slices and sword punctures. Thankfully he wears gloves, otherwise with his sweaty hands he would have dropped his bow. He and everyone had to move quickly to reach Miklan.

Dimitri had just finished off the last of the ambushers, and warned everyone of an armoured unit incoming. Lysithea quickly disposed of the knight with her mastery in magic, allowing for the group to keep advancing. Sylvain returned from rounding the corner where the flight of stairs led, his expression even from this distance expressing sheer trepidation. The prince shouted for everyone to stop advancing as the horse rider came to a halt. Claude and Edelgard quickly caught up with the Lions leader to hear what Sylvain had to say. 

“Miklan is coming down the stairs with some thieves!”

Claude hissed through his teeth. “Smart move.”

“We’ll need to separate him and the thieves so he can be dealt with,” Edelgard suggested as she glanced at the two leaders. “As axe wielder I’ll handle Miklan; the rest must bring out the other thieves.”

Dimitri seemed reluctant to go with it, yet his flickering blue eyes indicated that he knew that this is the best option. The blond informed Sylvain to fall back to garner those that can keep up with the leaders in dealing with the thieves. Right after this order the sight of ruffled crimson hair and a glowing object came into view. In the dim moonlight and candlelight Claude counted how many thieves backed their leader, and who wielded what weapon. Even from afar the tanned man could see the hideous scar that appeared to separate Miklan’s face in two. Such a sight made him whine: that looked like it must have hurt. Whilst wild as the man looked (and his shouts of damnation to Sylvain and Crests added to this image) he kept his men close to him, a smart move that served as a brilliant offense. Claude turned to Edelgard, who judging by her expression indicated that she too is impressed with his strategy. She too seemed exhausted: her slouched posture, her bleary blinking eyes, and sweat against her face are unsubtle signs. Without assistance she’ll stand no choice against Miklan.

He scooted closer to her as he placed his sword away to draw out his bow.

“I’ll create an opening and back you up, Princess.”

She didn’t even turn to him; her nod affirmed his plan. Glancing over his shoulder he noticed Ignatz come up from behind him. The skittish boy readied his bow. Once Miklan’s group scooted closer (they didn’t seem to see Ignatz behind Claude) and Dimitri engaged with a group to draw out the closest thieves guarding Miklan, Claude fired his bow. He managed to fire two arrows at once, and right after Ignatz fired. Two thieves came down while the rest dispersed to dodge the arrows that kept on raining down from the two Deer archers. With the group dispersed Dimitri and his bunch lunged at four bandits, where the students made a semi-circle to close the thieves off from regrouping with their leader. A few reckless thieves rushed up to try and end the irksome archers, only for Annette and Lysithea to come by the two boys’ side to launch some dark magic. Those bandits let out screams as flames engulfed them, in which they quickly fell to the floor to roll off the fire from their clothing. Their shouting halted when Edelgard lopped their heads off as she charged towards the now open Miklan. Claude stopped firing his bow and dashed after her, his trusty weapon still by his side as he notched an arrow.

Miklan moved quite quickly for someone of his bulky built. He swung the Lance of Ruin as if it were a mere toothpick. Yet fortunately Edelgard herself has a great built to allow her to raise her axe effortlessly and block the lance. From here the future sovereign noticed how the ancient weapon twitched like a centipede, no doubt eager to taste blood upon its glowing steel tip. The sight made his skin crawl. Aren’t holy weapons meant to be, he presumed, divine looking? He cocked his bow and kept one eye shut as he tried to gauge when to fire it. Miklan and Edelgard engaged in some deadly dance, with the clash of weapon being the equivalent of holding onto one’s partner to lead on. The man attempted to kick her, but she sidestepped and muttered something like ‘I’ve learnt to predict this dirty trick’ which brought a smirk to Claude. _Learnt from the best Princess_. Yet his humoured mood dampened as he noticed his bow shaking with his hands. Curses he is so tired that he can barely steady his bow!

A whine of agony jolted his hazy mind. The lance had grazed Edelgard’s side, tearing the clothing and allowing blood to run freely down to her thigh. Somehow she did not stagger or collapse on her knee, yet her moves started to become wonky as Miklan increased the pace of his jabs and slices. Adrenaline coursed through the future sovereign’s veins. Claude bit his lips hard to draw blood to further snap his tired mind into focus. Now jolted he got a good aim of Miklan’s head, where the archer tried to steady his breathing so to not miss. He wanted to hurry so to help his… his best friend or whatever Edelgard is to him, yet he could not afford to be careless. She is struggling, yet managing nonetheless. When the princess found herself pressed against a wall with no where to run, and with Miklan facing away and seeming to forget about Claude, the Deer leader fired.

The arrow grazed the side of Miklan’s head.

It must have been a deep cut, for it had the man freeze to raise his head to let out a scream. Edelgard took the opportunity to roughly slam her axe into his stomach. The sound of metal tearing and falling to the pavement echoed across the corridor. Lysithea shot some electrical magic to back up the princess. The sizzling bolts slammed into Miklan’s back and danced across his body like a series of snake infesting the armour. Miraculously he did not drop the Lance of Ruin, even as he stuttered and shook from the electricity. Edelgard snuck by and re-joined Claude. Without delay or even a quip Claude placed his bow away and then rummaged through his pouch for a concoction. He took off his glove, stuffed it in his belt, uncorked the bottle and poured the liquid onto his gloveless hand. He told Edelgard to hold still, in which she turned to him and obeyed, and then he ran his fingers across the scar. She hissed at the sensation, yet voiced no discomfort as he continued applying the liquid against her injury. Once the concoction settled in Claude retracted his fingers to wipe the blood off it. But a familiar gloved hand halted him, causing him to glance up. Edelgard let go of his hand to take out a cloth that she then used to clean the blood of his fingers. Even gloved her touch felt strangely delicate for someone so used to handling calloused weapons. Once done she placed the cloth away and bowed her head to Claude in gratitude.

“I must admit your marksmanship is impressive, Claude.” Edelgard stated with an impressed smile etched on her dirty and sweaty face.

Claude smirked and perked his nose haughtily. “Edelgard, impressed by me? My, my you’re starting to spoil me!”

“Don’t push your luck,” Edelgard scolded, but it was playful, and her eyes softened. Lilac regarded the pouch where Claude had placed the empty bottle away. “…And thank you.”

Usually he would offer a nonchalant shrug and utter ‘it was nothing’. Instead his smirk devolved into a genuine smile, and he placed a hand on her shoulder to give it a squeeze. “A Schemer gotta look after his Princess.”

That was… an extremely weird thing to say. He wanted to facepalm himself and then bang his head against a wall. Gee, and he thought he is the master of flirting and/or teasing! Nonetheless the way Edelgard beamed up at him, with her smile turning into one of those goofy grins of pearly whites that he adores, made him brush aside how corny he sounded to beam back down at her. Some strange warmth swelled inside Claude, a warmth of the likes he never felt. It is peculiar, and usually it would leave him infuriated, yet it feels lovely. A tiny part of him wonders if Edelgard also feels this bewildering and blossoming warmth in her. He can’t say why he wonders, and even _hopes_, she does… But he has never felt this wonderful around another person.

A scream tore their moment.

Claude turned to the source and his eyes widened.

To say he is speechless is… there are no words…

Something is happening to Miklan.


	6. A Fight With a Thief, Turned (Literal) Monster (Part II)

Chapter 6: A Fight With a Thief, Turned (Literal) Monster (Part II)

**A/N: 'Oh My': Of course once I shift to Edelgard's point of view she will be far more serious, and quite different from Claude :). **

* * *

Miklan let out a bloodcurdling scream as his body pulsated and shifted into a new form. It looked like liquid insects crawling along his body, consuming him like a disease. Soon his body started to change; bones cracked, muscles tore, and skin contorted as the thief morphed into something not human. Once completed Miklan-no, a creature-threw a mortified bandit aside and let out a shriek as it diverted its attention towards Claude and the others. Claude swore under his breath and grumbled about just wanting to rest after fighting hordes of thieves. Beside him Edelgard hissed through her clenched teeth as she ignored her side injury to lift up her axe over her shoulder to brace herself.

Gigantic and bony coloured with piercing red eyes that gleamed hungrily towards the students, and a wide gaping mouth that could crush bricks, the creature truly is nightmarish. Some of the students let out frightened yelps, a few quivered in petrified terror, and others braced themselves with weapons raised. The form in itself is startling, although what really catches Claude’s attention is that upon its forehead is the Crest of Gautier. The Lance of Ruin had disappeared, and from the proximity that Claude had been to Miklan he noticed that the weapon pulsated and had… transformed the thief into the beast before him. As he contemplated the future sovereign recalled how those lacking the designated Crest can not use the weapon’s potential. Yet nothing he read about or was told informed him of the Crest-less user transforming into a monster when using a Hero’s Relic.

So that’s why the Archbishop sent quite a large number of students to deal with Miklan.

That realisation made his eyebrows furrow. She must have known about what could have happened to Miklan, and to others like him, yet she is keeping this knowledge to herself. Clearly she is the only one-and most likely along with Seteth-who knows of such horrendous knowledge. At first he pondered why she’d keep such information away from the public. It quickly dawned on him, knowing how much Crests play an integral part in Fódlan’s make-up, that if people knew of this secret then people would lose faith in Crests… and in the Church. Clever and careful woman: if she had come to deal with Miklan herself she would have gotten herself killed and the Church would be in disarray. Instead she sent some clueless students to deal with Miklan, knowing that if some died it would matter not and if others lived they had no power to tell the world of this secret. It is the Church’s word over their voice. So much for the ‘kind and loving’ Archbishop. 

The creature, once it seemed to gain its bearings, made a mad dash towards the students. Fortunately the beast is unfamiliar with its body, so it is awkwardly moving around and nearly losing its footing per step. Someone called from behind him, in which he turned and noticed the Professor come between the three House leaders.

“We must break the beast’s defences if we are to deal damage,” the Professor ordered, their mighty weapon twitching with excitement at that idea. “That way we can daze the creature and defeat it.”

It is peculiar how confident the Professor sounds, even though they appear uncertain by the plan. Claude decided to brush that aside as he turned towards the beast rushing towards them.

“I’ll take your word, Teach,” he declared with emerald eyes narrowed in focus.

Edelgard and Dimitri seemed to approve, although the tanned boy could see that like him Edelgard was puzzled as to how the professor seemed to ‘know’ (for lack of better word) how to deal with this beast. The professor had been equally as surprised as the students when Miklan transformed. Regardless it was the best option.

“We must find a means to distract Miklan so we can strike,” Dimitri suggested as he brought his lance to the ready.

In the corner of his eye Claude noticed the cavalry: Ferdinand, Leonie, Lorenz and Sylvain approach. He smirked: that’ll work.

“Guess the cavalry and I shall be the distraction!”

Without consulting his teacher or the lords he ordered the approaching riders to circle around the beast and strike its legs. The four cavalry obeyed, and Claude quickly jumped when Leonie rode by so that he got on and straddled the back of the horse. Atop he then ran his hand above his quiver to count the arrows. Far too few for his liking. He clucked his tongue at this, but did not voice this to Leonie: she too had not many arrows left. Not that having many arrows would slay the beast… and as cumbersome as it is he is exhausted, so his concentration would be pitiful. At least he has a sword, although it won’t be much against such a thickly scaled monster. Hopefully the magic users will be adequate in weakening Miklan’s defences.

When Leonie got close to the creature’s front left leg the monster raised a hand to swat her. Instantly Leonie steered her horse to the side to dodge the arm, and by doing so Claude pivoted himself and notched an arrow to aim at the red eye. He fired, only for the arrow to bounce off the creature’s cheek. Okay so arrows were not going to work… At this stage all he could do is annoy the monster to distract it and put his faith in the students to break the defences. Problem is he never was one to put his faith in others.

Fortunately the beast is not impenetrable, as it would appear the under parts of the legs are fleshy and can be pierced by lances. Lorenz and Sylvain managed to dig their lances into the hind legs, which slowed the monster’s pace. Still the damage is not enough to break its defences. Deciding that there is no point sticking with Leonie, Claude tucked his bow away and leapt off the horse when she rounded the front right leg. Recovering from a roll he then slammed his sword into the tender flesh of the leg and then into the stomach. A shrill escaped Miklan, which brought a haughty smile to the tanned boy's face. Before the monster could stomp its foot to crush him he felt someone drag him from the back of the collar out under the belly. Turning to the source his eyes are greeted by the princess. She lets out an agonised grunt, and his attention diverts to her side injury that opened up when she pulled him out. He opened his mouth to inform her to get it treated, only for it to clamp shut when she tackled him. The air is knocked out of his lungs upon impact and from the weight of Edelgard, and his head spins and leaves him feeling lethargic. A gigantic arm swings over him, and his eyebrows widen at the proximity of the mighty talons. If she hadn’t tackled him then-

Something warm and red seeps through his clothing. It dawns on him that it is her injury. When the two stand up she tries to lumber forward to deal with the monster, only for Claude to pull her by the back of the collar to halt her in place. When she turns her lilac eyes are trenchant, and the furrowed white eyebrows highlight her dander. She opens her mouth to ridicule him, only for him to drag her by her hand far from the monster that Hilda and Caspar are currently engaging against. Outside the creature’s range of firing magical projectiles Edelgard once again tries to insult him, only for him to bring a finger to her lips to silence her. With the other hand he ushered Marianne over to attend to the princess. Once the bashful girl approached, Claude lowered his finger and turned to Edelgard with his award-winning smile that juxtaposed her soured demeanour.

“You shouldn’t have dragged me away from Miklan,” Edelgard ridiculed with her eyes furrowing from anger and the white magic seeping into her injury. “I could have kept fighting.”

At that Claude cocked an eyebrow. “Not a wise choice, Princess; I just saved you from your own stupidity.” He then drew a pensive frown. “You don’t seem like the type to play hero.”

“Says the archer lacking arrows.”

_Ouch._

Claude simply remained silent as Marianne halted the bleeding of the wound. The wound can open again, and with the lack of medical experts to stitch up the injury Edelgard will have to be vigilant. He is not one for babysitting or constantly watching over someone, but having seen how stupidly stubborn she can be he ought to tag along with her. Her injury did open up as a result of pulling him out of danger, so perhaps the two sticking together will benefit the other. They’re both exhausted: the heaving body, the sweat glistening against their skin, and the laboured breathing could not be suppressed by either lord. Working smarter and together is the only way to go. Honestly there is no one else he’d rather be by and work together with.

Edelgard thanked Marianne and before she could return to the fight Claude grabbed her shoulder and winked at her. “Mind if I stick with you?”

To his surprise, having expected her to snort at his antics, scoff in dismay, or silently move ahead, she nodded and told him to stay close. Under better circumstances he’d make a jest, but it was neither the mood or having the energy to joke, so he simply smiled. The two regrouped with those around the beast, and much to Claude’s relief it appeared that the monster’s defences started to weaken. Cracks appeared along the thickly scaled being, and its movements grew sluggish as its head and legs swayed back and forth. From here Claude could see Dimitri and the Professor ordering the others with how to approach the beast. A couple of the magic users had to retreat due to Miklan’s attention focusing on them. Raphael assisted in diverting the monster’s attention away from the magic users by slamming his gauntlets into the wound near the front left leg. Noticing that one of his fellow Deer is in danger Claude shouted to Ignatz to fire at the wound. With his archery skills the artist managed to hit the monster’s injury, causing it to recoil and give the grappler time to retreat. Due to its pain Miklan lowered his great gigantic head. From the tanned boy’s peripheral vision he noticed some tomahawks attached to Edelgard’s hips. Whilst throwing items is different from firing arrows he has had experience with such items. Even exhausted he should be able to do a better job at landing a hit with a tomahawk.

“Excuse me, Princess-”-he uttered as he took one of the tomahawks off her, startling the girl, “-I need to borrow this-!”

Right after taking it he threw it the axe at the creature’s red eye. Unlike last time Claude did not miss. With a mighty wail the monster reared its head in indescribable agony, and it began to flail its head to rid the axe dug in its eye. The creature’s defences are broken. Everyone took the opportunity to either retreat the injured to be treated by white magic users or to strike. Together Claude and Edelgard increased their sprinting speed to get close to Miklan. The Professor used their mighty whip-like sword to anchor the head to allow for their students to finish off the beast. Magic users that had retreated came closer to fire projectiles against Miklan, cavalry made quick yet deep blows as their horses dashed by, and those with heavy weapons slammed them unto the creature’s forehead. The forehead’s protective armour is fractured; a blow to the head will defeat it. Yet with how drained everyone is, including the horses, it appeared that it is up to him, Edelgard, and Dimitri to finish it off. Being a House Leader doesn’t give him a break.

Dimitri lodged his lance into the other red eye. Now Miklan is permanently blinded, yet that did not make him any less dangerous. The Professor could not anchor the beast for long, as the creature reared its head and flung them to a wall. Both future sovereign and future emperor came to a halt as they eyed the monster in dismay. Dimitri had to retreat to fetch another lance, leaving the two alone with Miklan. Claude’s lips grew dry. Now reaching the head will be challenging with how the maimed and blinded beast is thrashing about. No body can jump and climb along the creature, not even someone as agile as himself. If someone boosted another then maybe it could-

That’s it-!

He placed his sword away and grabbed Edelgard by the shoulder to divert her attention. She turned to him with wonder. “I’ll run to Miklan to give you a boost so you can finish him off by landing a blow to his head!”

An incredulous expression crosses her, as indicated by her wide lilac eyes and gawking mouth. “Are you insane-!?”

Without waiting for her confirmation Claude took the gamble and dashed ahead to the sound of the princess screaming out to him. His ears rang from the din that is the monster wailing in pain. Sweat stung his eyes and caused him to blink a number of times. Every muscle in his being ached, begging him to stop and collapse to the floor to rest. The instinct of flight is replaced with fight. Tired… pain… rest… These thoughts spiralled around and around in his head, a temptation that would seduce many. Somehow though he resists. When he neared the head he turned to face Edelgard and cupped his hands for her to put her foot on for him to launch. As expected Edelgard rushed after him, and with quick reflexes she pressed a leg forward and placed her boot on his cupped hands. Instantly he boosted her up. Looking up he noticed that she used the momentum to raise her axe behind her to bring it down on Miklan. Claude grinned triumphantly when he saw her slam the mighty weapon into the exposed forehead.

His grin is shattered when something slams itself into his torso.

Pain is registered. Something had grazed him. On the floor his head spins. Sight becomes bleary. Noises are muffled and dying out. Last thing he sees and hears is Edelgard calling out to his name and approaching him with an uncharacteristically panicked expression…

* * *

Emerald eyes blink back into existence.

Senses once lost gradually start to be regained. The feeling of something silky and soft is registered against the person: a bed and pillow, amongst other things. A sniff ignites the sense of smell, of something bitter that it makes the owner gag. Something wooden is scene: a ceiling. There is the sound of some footsteps pattering against the floor. The familiar taste of concoction is felt upon his lips. Alive and good… That’s absolutely perfect in Claude’s eyes.

A wince escapes Claude as he cautiously tilted his head off the pillow. His eyes trail across his body to see that he is topless, save for the bandage roles wrapped around his person. From his peripheral vision he notices a bin off old and bloodied bandage roles; he’s been changed a lot. He looked up and sees Manuela, fortunately sober for once, her amber eyes lighting up when she noticed him awaken.

“Nice to see you among the living!” Manuela exclaimed as she moved over to him. 

Claude snorted amusedly and let out a smirk. “Can’t die just yet, Professor.”

“Well that’s good to hear, considering how fatally injured you were,” Manuela mentioned as she fetched a jar of water to offer to him.

That was expected, although damning nonetheless. Claude takes the jug and sips, rather laps, at the water until he can no longer chug it down. Once done and set aside he maintains an unfazed façade. He is not one to express his true emotions, let alone ones regarding worry or irritation, so he merely hardened his smile at the physicist. No doubt Miklan slashed him in one final fit of agony. Claude is unsure if Manuela is aware of the specifics, considering that this ‘Crestless person transforming into a monster after using a Hero’s Relic’ is new to him and the other students. She probably was told that he was ganged up by a group of thieves, or one particularly skilled one dealt the blows. Manuela is intelligent, more perspective than she looks and is perceived by others, so she may be suspicious of the reason. Regardless he cannot say anything, otherwise… well, his word means little compared to the Archbishop.

“Edelgard had to carry you here because you were unconscious,” Manuela explained as checked his temperature by pressing a palm to his forehead. “For three days you were out cold.”

“Must have missed a lot of homework,” Claude jested, but internally he felt astonished. He had expected a day… “Anything I should be concerned about?”

“Just to not be reckless in the future,” Manuela answered dryly as she regarded him carefully. “You scared the Golden Deer, your professor, and Edelgard.”

Oh? The stoic professor worrying is quite something, although the princess too? Sure they are friends, yet he expected that she would be cantankerous or neutral about what happened. Even when worried she tends to seem impassive and unfazed… very much like him now that he thinks about it. Like him she keeps up a façade, and she has proven to be quite adept at maintaining one. So to hear that she was so worried about him, that she had _carried _him here (with how Fódlan perceives a man being carried by a woman and vice versa), is utterly startling. Honestly there are no words in Fódlanese or Almyran to describe his incredulous flabbergast. If Manuela said she was joking it would make sense; if she said that Raphael carried him than that would be more believable. Thinking about being held in Edelgard’s strong arms emitted a delightful, although inappropriate, shiver down his spine. Imagining her with quivering lips and wide lilac eyes of terror made him shake his head at how ludicrous the thought is. He opened his mouth to make a jest, only for it to close. What could he possibly say? Is there anything to say? He always used to shrug off people’s worries of him, for he knew it would be fleeting when he came back alive and dandy. Yet now he feels… not upset perse, more uncertain and somewhat bad. But this feeling only extends to Edelgard. With the Deer and professor he feels as he always did: nonchalant about them worrying. Why is that? Why is it only with Edelgard?

Curse how tongue-tied and lost he feels…

Claude manages to quickly masquerade as the happy-go lucky boy many perceive him to be, as he brought his hands behind he head and leaned back against the headboard. “I suppose I will still have to rest to recover, right?”

Manuela nodded. He clucked his tongue-he never enjoyed doing nothing. Being sick is cumbersome and leaves him bored. On top of that he is most curious to know what happened with the Archbishop regarding Miklan. With that silver tongue-no, gold does her justice-she would have been able to convince many that she did not know. Topped with that motherly aura and kindly smile and even the sceptics may falter. He would like to hear what his fellow Deer think, and then what Edelgard makes of it.

“Can the Golden Deer come and check on me? I wouldn’t want them to continue feeling worried or guilty,” Claude requested.

Manuela uttered ‘of course!’ and went to fetch the Deer. Apparently she didn’t have to go far, because the moment she opened the door they came rushing in to check on their leader. Claude let out an uncharacteristic yelp as they crowed around him. His ears rang from all the questions and remarks being fired at him, leaving him feeling just as lethargic as he did when waking up.

“Whoa, whoa back up everyone!” Claude instructed and made a pushing motion with his hands. Some uttered their apologise as they backed away. “One at a time would be most appreciated.”

“What were you thinking?” Lorenz, being Lorenz, attacked with his eyebrows furrowed in belligerence. “Throwing yourself like that without thinking of what could have happened next. Are you not meant to be the intelligent and tactical genius?”

Leonie turned to him and smacked the back of his head. “Knock it off, Lorenz!”

That smack brought a split-second smirk to Claude’s face. A plate of food appeared in his line of sight. Looking up he saw Raphael smile encouragingly to the House leader and gently pushing the plate to usher him to eat. Claude expressed his gratitude as he took the plate of food, mostly comprised of meat, and began to snack on it. Soon his snacking became ravenous as he gobbled up the food, his manners lacking so badly that even an orphan would be mortified and be able to consume food more neatly. From his peripheral vision he noticed Ignatz come forward with some papers. It quickly dawned on the tanned boy that the artist wrote some catch-up notes for him.

“I hope my notes will catch you up to speed,” Ignatz uttered as Claude took the papers and scanned the pages. “I-I even drew some diagrams to help you out!”

Truly fantastic note taking, but of course it is as Ignatz is an enthusiastic learner and intelligent person. Claude grinned and commended the archer’s note taking, which made the bashful boy rub the back of his head and say that it was nothing.

“Thank the Goddess that you are alive and recovering,” came the light yet distinguishable voice of Marianne from the back of the group.

“Yeah! Good thing Edelgard was there to carry you, otherwise you would have been crushed by-” Lysithea (she has joined the Black Eagles, but still came) elbowed Hilda to not reveal the nature of Miklan, “-the crumbling wall that one of those thieves destroyed!”

Saved again by the Imperial Princess: no longer even on the ‘saved you tally’, so Claude guesses he will have to make it up to her. In all honesty though he would have tried to make it up to Edelgard even if she didn’t save him that extra time. Odd as it may sound and appear to others but he thoroughly enjoys her company. A game of chess brings out this competitive side to the two; reading books together allows them to release their burdens for a moment, and the intelligent conversations they have is indescribably gratifying and pleasant. There is something about Edelgard that allows him to be himself, _truly_ himself, not a façade to fool all. This logic also appears to apply to her. Oxymoronic as it sounds the two are most guarded about themselves around each other, yet also the most honest together. It is pleasant, yet puzzling; a mixture that leaves him… well, baffled…

“Well I’m just glad that we all made it out,” Claude said in that nonchalant manner that made him appear fearless. His award-winning pearly whites further made him look blasé. “You all best continue your studying! I expect all of you to be doing well-including you, Hilda.”

Hilda looked hurt-faux, of course-as she pouted at him, while others giggled at the comment. He sneered towards his best friend’s reaction and pretended that he hadn’t meant to gang up on her. Her haughty smile made him laugh, yet it did not nor could it match to those dorky smiles of a certain white haired House Leader…

* * *

“You seem to be recovering well.”

Breaking out of reading a book that Ignatz brought to look up Claude is greeted with the sight of Edelgard at the doorway. Arms crossed, steely lilac eyes, and a pensive frown-that’s the princess he knows. A smile, one of those rare genuine and unpractised smiles, crossed his face to make his emerald eyes crinkle at her. Manuela had left to attend a faculty meeting, leaving him alone to read and do what he wishes. Perhaps he read some of the physicist’s books to make a poison… maybe he even brewed one to kill his boredom, and most likely that very poison is corked and under his pillow.

“Oh were you worried about me, Princess?” Claude cooed and winked at her as she closed the door behind her. He couldn’t let her know just how pleased he is to see her.

Somehow her expression hardens, and it nearly faltered the future sovereign’s neutral smile. “I see no reason to be making jests when you were at the risk of dying.”

“But I am alive,” Claude reminded casually. He searched her expression carefully, and noticed that her eyebrows quivered lightly: a sign of concern. It is a subtle thing he has picked up when playing chess with her.

He placed the book aside and flung himself over the bed to have a better look at her. Upon doing so she turned her head away from him. For a moment he thought it was because he had angered her, only to notice a pink blush against her pallor cheeks. Looking down at his person he is reminded that he is shirtless. Half of his mind is wishing to make a naughty remark, and the other is making him feel bashful. He has never felt self-conscious about being shirtless around anyone regardless of their sex. Yet now he is acting like this is the first time someone has seen him like this. Stupid cheeks starting to burn…!

Once the blush subsided he looked up and spoke lowly and huskily, “Like what you see, Princess?”

Her darkening blush affirmed it, and oh boy he would be lying to himself if he didn’t beam at this or feel a swell of pride within his being. She is the best person to tease! Somehow Edelgard mustered the courage to look at him. Don’t think Claude didn’t notice her eyes raking his torso in a ‘blink-and-you-miss’ moment.

“Comedy seems to be your coping mechanism in hiding how you truly feel,” Edelgard comments smoothly with prying lilac eyes.

“Bluntness seems to be your coping mechanism in hiding how you truly feel,” Claude retorted back with a knowing smile.

Silence. Both know each other well. It is daunting for two secretive individuals… yet they also seem to be pleased that there is someone who truly understands them. There is something gratifying in seeing the white haired girl falter her defences before him. Most likely he weakens his resolve around her too, making them even.

Emerald eyes narrowed austerely towards the future emperor. “I heard you carried me back,” Claude spoke, now sounding serious. “You know Raphael could have brought me back.”

“I felt responsible for your foolish plan,” Edelgard spoke with an honesty that made him blink. Her expression softens, another uncharacteristic element of hers. “As much as it eludes me to say you have become quite a friend to me, Claude.”

Damn… Claude has no idea what to say. He had expected her to lash out at him or say some snark remark about how moronic he was. Instead here she is admitting him to being valuable to her as a friend and not a political ally.

_I can say the same of you._

“What about your injuries?” Claude diverts the topic to her, as he is growing uncomfortable with how intimate his feelings are growing. “You received quite the nasty scar.”

“It has healed,” Edelgard answered. Claude shot a deadpan expression: she is a stubborn person who plays off as being fine. She scoffed at his reaction. “I am not lifting my uniform to prove it.”

“But you’ve seen me shirtless,” Claude jested with a mock pout.

“As I recall my wound had opened up when I pulled you away from being crushed by Miklan,” Edelgard reminded him oh-so casually with an ever-so slight sly smile.

Claude hissed through his teeth in defeat. “Touché, Princess.”

They both snorted amusedly at their odd antics. Remembering that he wanted to hear her views of what had happened with Miklan he grew solemn. He ushered her over away from the door so that they could speak quietly. They had witnessed a secret of enormous proportions that the Church wants to be buried and kept away from the public. Fortunately Edelgard knows when he is not fooling around, so she approached him and carefully sat beside him. He turned to regard her with hard emerald eyes.

“I don’t know about you but last time I read the history books on Crests and Hero’s Relics nothing was said about a Crestless user turning into a monster when they wielded such a weapon.”

Edelgard pursed her lips and nodded. “It explains why the Archbishop was so adamant in sending more students to deal with the threat.”

“What has happened since I was out cold for three days?” Claude asked.

“Would it surprise you if I told you that the Archbishop played as the unknowing and unsuspecting woman who doesn’t want to bring fear by having this knowledge known to all?” Edelgard inquired dryly with a cocked eyebrow.

As expected: “Not in the slightest,” Claude answered with a shrug. “I would like to give the benefit of the doubt that not everyone believed her.”

“Yes, but like what happened with Lord Lonato none can voice their discomfort or question the Church on such matters,” Edelgard clarified. Her expression hardened to not hide her disgust. “Those like us are completely powerless to challenging the Church’s word.”

Unfortunately true. He used to think that once he becomes the King of Almyra, a mixed racial man, then he may try diplomacy to convince the Archbishop that isolation will lead to Fódlan’s downfall. Now he is certain that even if he becomes the Leader of the Alliance, and then the King of Almyra that nothing will convince her to open Fódlan to the world. With such a mindset from Fódlan why would Almyra wish to form ties? He is not naïve; he knew that forming a relationship between two radically different countries would be hard. Yet now living in this country and meeting the Archbishop in person he sees that even the most powerful person is close-minded. Be that it may be, at least he has met someone who shares his views and is open-minded: Edelgard. Maybe in the future the two can work together to form a diplomatic relation. Once he steps down as Leader of the Alliance to become King of Almyra, he will meet the emperor and create the first open relation: Almyra and Adrestia. There is still hope for his ambitions. Whilst it is unwise to place all his hopes unto one powerful person, he does believe that Edelgard is a person that wishes to break norms to improve the continent. 

“Maybe once we ascend our positions of power we can, in the very least, convince our people to be more open-minded,” Claude decreed with a wistful glint in his eyes. 

At that Edelgard smiled mirthlessly. Like him she is sceptical if it would be so easy. “One can hope.”

Claude offered another one of those rare (funny how they’re not rare with the princess) genuine smiles to her. Edelgard’s wistful expression then morphed to one displaying affection as her eyes softened and her taut facial muscles eased. Sunlight seeped through the window and transformed her deathly pallor skin into the finest white marble and her hair into threads of silver. Claude found himself taking in all the features before him. Those lilac eyes are quite striking, mostly due to such colour being unseen in Almyra. He wouldn’t mind having them watching him half-lidded and hazy… How small she is compared to him-he could rest his chin atop her scalp. Her small height makes her utterly adorable, which is always heightened by her guffawed laughs that seem only made for his ears to hear. Thinking of her stature reminds him of how muscular she is, and oh how he had enjoyed caressing her exposed biceps and clothed abdomen. Oh the thought of her naked with her muscles and creamy skin on display as she straddles him is-

_Where did these inappropriate thoughts come from!? _

The door opens and in comes Manuela. When she entered her eyes light up in flabbergast at the sight of the two students. Claude realized instantly how this looks: him shirtless and Edelgard sitting right next to him with their feet touching. The physicist raised her riding crop and pointed at them accusingly with her furrowed expression to match.

“Don’t you two even think about copulating here! Do it in your rooms but not here when I will take the blame!”

Both House leaders malfunctioned.

They spluttered insistently that they had not planned to engage in such activities. Edelgard, with cheeks a brilliant crimson that spread down to her neck, tried in vain to remain composed as she explained that she simply came to check on him. Meanwhile Claude just uttered ‘yes’ and ‘honest’, his cheeks feeling as if on fire and his voice sounding cracked and strained. At this stage he felt he would combust out of humiliation. Quickly Edelgard stood up, uttered ‘get well soon, Claude’ in a zip-fast tone, bowed to Manuela, and rushed out before she could be further disgraced. Once she left Manuela snickered, then she began to chuckle and finally she burst out into laughter. The laughter echoed across the walls of the infirmary. Claude just stared stupidly at the professor with gawking jaw and wide eyes. Never can he recall feeling this stupefied…

“Oh I was-_laugh_-just joking-!” Manuela laughed as she grabbed her knees to keep her hysteria maintained. “Your expressions were-oh my, they were _priceless!_”

If the Goddess exists then Claude would like to have a word with her.


	7. Almyran and Scars

**A/N: Sorry for being so late! I will not be able to update many stories from now on, but I was determined to update this one!**

**For those curious: no, 'Cindered Shadows' will not play a role in this story, as it is filler!**

* * *

Flayn has disappeared.

Naturally everyone, particularly Seteth, panicked at the news and immediately commenced an investigation into her disappearance. The Golden Deer were tasked to be the main force leading the investigation, with each member taking off a chunk of their learning time to question those in and around the church. No one has seen anyone abduct Flayn, meaning that anyone could be the perpetrator. Perhaps it was an organization that had planned her kidnapping. It is not just finding out who abducted the girl but also why. No ransom has been made to the church. There have been no threats made to her life. Nothing has been said or shown to even indicate if she is dead or alive. Everyone feels stumped at the lack of information.

Yet for Claude he may have some leads.

In the confines of his room he sat at his desk and flicked the pages of a book he snagged from the library. Hanneman brought up an interesting quality of Flayn that made his brain click at a potential realisation as to why the jade haired girl was kidnapped. According to the Crest researcher, Flayn contains the Major Crest of Cethleann, which hasn’t been recorded in any history books. Of course this knowledge may be kept hidden and forbidden, considering everything that has happened during his time at the academy. Knowing how obsessed Fódlanders are with Crests and their Saints it seems extremely likely that, that is why Flayn has been captured. Hence he is researching about Cethleann and histories surrounding people’s obsession with mingling with those of Crests. Fascinating, especially the facts that people have been kidnapped and forced into bestowing their Crest to their abductor. Such ‘bestowing’ is extremely gruesome, yet having witnessed such revolting qualities of mankind in Almyra when he was growing up has desensitised him to reading these matters. That still didn’t stop him from worrying about how Flayn’s Crest was going to be retrieved though…

A knock interrupts his train of thoughts.

He turned to the door and called to the knocker for identification. When it turned out to be Edelgard his emerald eyes shot up. Is she here to scold him for, she would presume, not investigating? Might as well let her in, otherwise brushing her off will make her barge in and demand he leaves. Although in all honesty he would have invited her in regardless. Inviting anyone into his room says a lot about his relationship with her (whatever this not-as-of-yet deciphered bond is called).

“Come in!”

With a light click the door opens and out from it pops the familiar white hair and lilac eyes he’s grown to adore seeing. It is daunting with how his heart flutters, how his posture loosens, and how his smile reaches his ears whenever they meet. Such baffling warmth is foreign to him, and it leaves him feeling puzzled yet, oxymoronically, at the same time jubilant. 

He leans back against his chair and grins in amusement at how startled the princess is as she looks around his room. At least she wasn’t absolutely mortified like Lorenz was when he discovered the ‘abysmal’ condition of his dorm.

“Your room is messier than I had anticipated,” Edelgard stated, blunt and to the point as always. That subtle dryness in her tone indicated that her comment is in light spirits. 

“Nice to see you too, Princess,” Claude jested with a wink. His grin shifted into a confused frown, his emerald eyes gleaming curiously. “What brings you here? Did someone tell you to come and fetch me? A certain Lorenz may be?”

“Hilda, actually,” Edelgard corrected as she moved over to observe the piles of books with fascination. “She said that only I could come in to check on you and convince you to continue the search for Flayn.”

Somehow Claude doubted that, that was the only reasoning. While she may be ditzy, Hilda is far more perceptive than people give her credit for. It is quite likely that the pink haired girl is trying to set Edelgard with him in belief that there is something romantic going on between them. Such a thought made him snort amusedly at his retainer’s attempt and misunderstanding.

Wait, what’s this? Uncertainty is clawing and crawling across his brain? Such thoughts made his hand grip against the page of the book. What, is he starting to wonder if his admittedly strong bond with Edelgard could be romantic? Now his mind is telling him that the idea leaves him feeling genuinely happy at the prospect!? Accursed cheeks burning and tainting his tanned skin pink with a plethora of warm and bashful emotions...! Preposterous, simply ludicrous! Him, Claude von Riegan, falling in love? That concept is utterly absurd. Romance is something that he long abandoned, for he places his duty to the Fódlanders and Almyrans first and foremost. Romance is so silly to him: it is a hindrance to his current ambitions. Sure, he thought of possibly having the chance to find love after retiring as king, but overtime he grew to accept that the reality would be him marrying for political purposes.

Well… he could one day marry Emperor Edelgard to unite two different lands and that would be wonder-

All right now his thoughts are starting to sound like that they belonged to a different person. Cumbersome ideas leaving him feeling like some teenage boy pining for someone…

Realising that he hadn’t addressed Edelgard’s reasoning for coming here he mustered a hardened smile to hide his torrent of conflicting thoughts. “I have to correct you and Hilda on that: I am trying to find something on ‘the Death Knight’ and anything about the Crest of Cethleann to give me any leads to Flayn’s whereabouts.”

White eyebrows shot up for a second as she turned to him. “Oh? Did you find anything then?”

He clicked his tongue to answer her. She moved over to him to observe the books beside him on the desk to see what he had gone through. One of her fingers danced across one of the books. Dust stained the white glove, yet the owner cared not.

“There are no records of this ‘Death Knight’ or any fable telling a story of a knight of death snatching up students in the dead of night,” Claude elaborated as he turned back to the book he is reading. Dark eyebrows furrowed in frustration as he re-read a sentence. “There is also nothing on a Major Crest of Cethleann.”

With one hand he rubbed his chin in contemplation. “So far there is nothing in my books or the ones from the library that can give me any clues as to who her kidnappers are.”

The timing of everything as of late, since the Professor first arrived, has felt too connected to be coincidental. He cannot help but be suspicious about what has been going on, especially surrounding the Church. There is no doubt in his mind that the Archbishop and Seteth know more as to why Flayn was kidnapped, and even perhaps who the culprits are. Yet even so it is clear they don’t know where she is. What secrets are they keeping that warrant not finding Flayn earlier, especially with how mortified and beside himself Seteth is? After being in the Academy for months the future sovereign feels like he has learnt little to nothing about Fódlan’s secrets…

“Is this all in Almyran?”

Snapping out of his trance he glances over to see that Edelgard had picked up a book to flick through some pages. Lilac eyes are wide with wonder as the owner scans the unfamiliar words, star-struck and fascinated, as a historian would be in her shoes. Such a look of sheer fascination made Claude forget about supressing his emotions and playing the suave trickster, as he beamed in rapturous jubilance. Emerald eyes glowed like the finest polished stones, and his grin of pearly whites strained his facial muscles as he could barely contain himself.

“It sure is-!” he answered, accidentally slipping out his pure joy at her interest.

She looked over from the page to stare inquisitively at him. There is a hopeful glint in her eyes that those who know her well can pinpoint. “Can you read it?”

“Yes,” he stated with a pleased smile, delighting in how Edelgard seem to light up in ardent glee at that news. “With how Almyra invades the border of the Alliance, I wanted to learn the language in hopes of forming diplomatic ties. Although I may not look like it I try to avoid violence and bloodshed if I can.”

For a split second, so short that he even doubted himself, there is a flicker of melancholy in Edelgard’s expression. But it had quickly diminished when she, austere and stoic princess that tries to be oh-so rational, gawks at him as if he is the Goddess in the flesh. With a cough to clear her throat, that strangely adorable habit of hers when she tries to regain composure, her eyes flick back and forth from the book to him. He can tell that she wants to ask him to read to her aloud, but she is uncertain if now, with a certain fish-loving girl missing, is the right time. Oh but he would love to.

With a knowing smile he stood up and went to stand by the small girl’s side. Not being able to help himself he rested his chin against the crown of her head. A snicker escapes him as she lightly elbows him in the stomach to tell him to stop mocking her height. That humoured smirk when she looked over at him made him let out an exaggerated whine of dismay; he caught a glimpse of her holding back her sniggers when she turned back to the book. He looked over her shoulder and brought a finger to a sentence. Standing side by side he can feel her shoulder, muscled like the rest of her, recalling briefly how pleasant it was caressing her biceps during the Miklan Incident.

“_To become a man of Almyra, a boy must bond with a wyvern and take it to the skies. Then, and only then, shall he transition into manhood,_” Claude translated, his finger moving along the Almyran script. “_To gain a wyvern’s trust is a demonstration of true courage and wisdom._”

Edelgard appeared to believe him, pointing out to the diagram of the wyvern and a picture of a boy riding one on the next page. When she expressed that she wishes to hear more he smiled and continued:

“_The first step to gaining a wyvern’s trust is to show that you treat the creature as not some mindless beast, but a being capable of great power. Wyverns are more intelligent than they may seem, and thus are deserving of respect_.”

The princess asks if he can speak Almyran, in which he answered with an affirmative musical hum. She requested him to repeat what he had just read, but this time in Almyran. So he did as she requested and backtracked the sentences from the beginning to speak in his mother tongue. Rasping his tone he spoke in his language, a secret of his that he only had the luxury in Fódlan to speak quietly at night when he read these very texts before going to bed. Glancing over a few times he notices how entranced Edelgard appears at hearing a language very few Fódlanders hear in their entire lives.

The enthusiasm present in her gleaming eyes makes his heart flutter at the way she is looking at him. Instead of paying great heed to the words he takes in the details of her face: how her white eyelashes flutter at the words that sound difficult to pronounce, how her pale lips curve into a smile meant for him alone, and how at ease she looks with the softened eyebrows. Once done he grins at her, loving the way she is enamoured with the world of Almyra, loving how she clearly has so many questions to ask that she cannot afford to right now. As if the floodgates have opened he wants nothing more than to share his knowledge of Almyra: the customs, the people, the folklore, everything. 

“The next step to becoming a man is charming a princess of this height_-_” -he uses one hand to pat her head and retract it- “-by saying how adorable she is, even when she knits her eyebrows to look something of a menacing cat, and humbly tell her that she is not subtle in gorging sweets.”

Edelgard scoffed playfully at his words and took the book from him, and stared at him in mock knowingness. “Whilst my Almyran is nothing compared to yours, I must correct you: to charm a princess such as myself, the boy must learn to respect her regardless of height; never to mock, only remind her that she will always triumph over his silly antics.”

Claude stuck out his tongue at her jest-Edelgard von Hresvelg, capable of jesting!-and tsked with a finger wagging at her in disapproval. “Now, now, Princess-I’m starting to think you’re making up the translations!”

“And who started that, pray tell, Schemer?”

He placed his hands on his hips and shot her his most award-winning smile, taking great pride in his magnificent sense of humour. The way Edelgard was grinding her teeth and how her cheeks puffed indicated that she tried to prevent herself from laughing. Alas she could not help but guffaw at their peculiar antics, tried as she must with her hand raised to her mouth. Even the future sovereign can’t help but burst out into laughter. None would ever believe him that he not only made Edelgard laugh, but that he somehow managed to have her play along with his game. It is a sentiment none most likely share, and to know that makes him feel like a boy again taking flight for the first time on his wyvern. Preposterous as it may sound, and not too long ago he would have barked at how ludicrous it sounded, Edelgard brings out his genuine side: his true intelligence, his love of sharing Almyran culture, and his pleasures. To have someone that matches his interests and tests him at his own games and charades, a person with a façade hiding their own secrets, makes him… unbelievably happy.

What a sight this must look to an outsider: two future leaders, one known to be impassive and the other a mere trickster, guffawing as if they witnessed the greatest joke conceivable. Noticing how she was behaving her laughter died down until she was back to the usual austere self. But that small smile that creaked her pallor cheeks showcased to the tanned boy that she does and still finds it all humorous. Carefully she placed the book back onto its pile and turned to him with a solemn expression. Claude grew pensive at how she regarded him.

“Since these books do not seem to give you any indication as to where Flayn is, or who her kidnappers are, I suggest you assist your House in finding her,” Edelgard instructed, recalling why she came here in the first place. “My House and I are aiding the search, as well as Dimitri and his own House.”

He let out a defeated sigh, knowing that she is right. An idea then sprung to him, one that made him dare to smile hopefully at the princess. “Would you like me to teach you how to read and speak Almyran?”

She considers, truly, not like some people that pretend to consider another’s words, her eyebrows knitted and her face contorted as she contemplated when she could be taught in her no doubt busy schedule. After some time she lets out a warm smile and nods.

“If I find the time then yes, I would like that very much,” Edelgard affirmed wholeheartedly, that smile of hers causing a small fire akin to a welcoming fireplace to ignite in Claude. “I just hope you will not trick me into saying something vulgar when I wish to greet an Almyran.”

At that Claude rears his head to bark out a laugh. “Oh you have such little faith in me, Princess!” He then looked at her and shot her his own warm smile. “Thank you.”

She cocked an eyebrow in puzzlement. “What for?”

He realised that perhaps he slipped out too much by being grateful to meeting a Fódlander that shows honest interest in Almyra. Need he remind himself that he must not let out too much of his ambitions and persona, otherwise it may jeopardise his dream. In the very least he is truly grateful that he knows someone that is open for the world beyond Fódlan. Dreams may indeed come true.

“For being open minded.”

Her expression softens at this vague answer. Fortunately she does not elaborate, although fascinated as she is in his secrets as she had displayed countless times. Instead she utters that they best get going, in which he dryly remarks that what does she need to link her arm with him to take him out to meet his Deer. His remark brought a pink blush to her pallor cheeks, and Goddess he revels in making her blush and being rewarded by how adorable she looks. So she decided as a means to save face to abandon him, in which he snorted and followed after the ‘antagonised’ girl.

* * *

Flayn has been rescued!

Of course she had been rescued; the entire monastery was trying to locate her. It was, though, shocking to learn that one of the professors, Jeritza, was behind the kidnapping of the young green haired girl. More astonishing was the meeting of this ‘Flame Emperor’, whom is in cahoots with the Death Knight-more like the knight is a subordinate. An armoured figure wielding an axe and mighty shield, and an inhuman voice is how he has been described. Unfortunately for Claude he did not meet this emperor, for he had to attend to Manuela’s injuries. From what his fellow Deer mentioned the enigma said something about wanting to change the world. _Don’t we all? _Claude thinks dryly.

The three House leaders had been brought to Rhea to hear of the ordeal that had occurred beneath the monastery. Rhea inquired with Edelgard about whether she knew of this Flame Emperor. The princess answered solemnly that this would neither be the first nor the last person to pose as the ‘legitimate’ emperor in Adrestian history. She further added that she does not know of such a person; even when descriptions were given to her, the princess stated that future emperors are expected to wield an axe and mighty shield as a symbol of power and protection.

Outside the cathedral by the Goddess Tower he walks and catechises Flayn about what occurred three days ago. From what Teach brought up the girl is prized for her blood, something that Claude had hypothesised when he was trying to hunt her down. Seteth had even suggested moving out with Flayn out of protection, only for the prized girl to insist in joining the Teach’s class. So now he’s here, acquainting with the fish-loving girl. 

“So you really don’t remember what happened?” He asked for what sounded like the infinite time today.

Flayn shook her head, a pensive frown etched on her face as she gazed across the plateau that the monastery stood on. “All I remember was being put to sleep by someone that came from behind. It would appear I had been induced into a deep sleep throughout the entire ordeal.”

That was to be expected, although he still could not help but feel a bit disappointed. Then again there really is not much that needs to be addressed in regards to why she was kidnapped. Fódlanders are obsessed with Crests; hence, some will result to extreme measures to attain a Crest for their selfish desires. But after what happened with Miklan, and what he learnt from Tomas, he cannot help but think that there must be more to just ‘hoping to have a child bearing a Crest’.

Footsteps interrupt his train of thoughts. The two turn to see Edelgard approach with a light smile of greetings towards them. He gave her a salute with his fingers.

“How are you settling in, Flayn?” Edelgard asked kindly as she turned her attention to the smaller girl.

At that question Flayn visibly lit up. “The Golden Deer have been most hospitable in accepting me into their House! The other Houses have also shown me nothing but kindness!”

Edelgard simply hummed and nodded in approval. Before anyone else could say anything someone shouted to attract their attentions. Turning to the source they are all greeted by Raphael, his optimistic grin contagious and his yellow eyes beaming like two suns.

“Ah Flayn, I’ve been looking all over for you! Have you forgotten about us practicing our battle cries?” Raphael spoke with his eyes twinkling in glee.

Flayn gasped in realising that she had forgotten. “Ah how could I have forgotten!? I would like to further practice my battle cry!”

“Then come on down to the stables! I’m pretty sure you’ve improved since the last time we practiced!”

Practically bouncing like a child the young girl roared as she ran along with Raphael, leaving the two House leaders alone. Claude could not help but crack an amused grin at how dumbstruck Edelgard looked as she watched them go.

“It’s their fun, silly thing,” Claude answered the speechless princess.

Edelgard nodded with that puzzled expression still etched on her face. It diminished when she turned to him, now solemn and inquisitive. That intense look in her lilac eyes indicates that this is a discussion that is to remain between just the two of them. His emerald eyes narrow ever so slightly to showcase to her that he understands. He cocked his head to the side to usher her further from the entrance of the monastery so that none could hear them. Thus the two move further away by the well closer to the Goddess Tower. No one should be able to hear them from here.

“For someone that has been imprisoned for so long, she seems to have recovered quite quickly.” Edelgard began with crossed arms.

“She must be used to being kidnapped,” Claude answered with a light shrug-he wasn’t making a gaffe, just sounding blunt. He then cocked an eyebrow at her, frowning in solemn perplexity. “And how is Monica? She seems to be oh-so unfazed by having been imprisoned for a year.”

“Indeed,” Edelgard uttered in agreement. She uncrosses her arms to rub her chin thoughtfully, eyes darted as she contemplated. “Perhaps it is a coping mechanism of hers. She is different from when I last remembered her, which is only to be expected.”

“Oh?” Well that is interesting~! “You two used to be friends?”

“Yes,” Edelgard confirmed. Her expression turns deadpan, unamused by something. “She still teases me like I remembered…”

He could not help but bark out a few chuckles at this. He brought his hands behind his head and made a mock pout of dismay. “Oh and I thought I am the only one that gets to tease you, Princess!”

A snort comes from her, only for her to brush it aside with a grumble of mild frustration. Claude then leaned his back against the stonewall, hands still behind his head, eyes trained on the future emperor. His smile remains in place, yet he knows that the princess can read through its deliciously fake sweetness that something is on his mind.

“Knowing how you’re not exactly fond of the Archbishop, I am wondering if you kept something from her regarding this Flame Emperor.”

Edelgard lets out a defeated sigh. She comes over to stand by his side, her attention towards the blue sky and the forests that embraced the plateau. She then diverts her attention towards him.

“As disbelieving as this may sound: no, I truly do not know about this Flame Emperor,” Edelgard stated, white eyebrows knitted in frustration at her lack of knowledge. “The last so-called legitimate emperor was when I was but a child.”

“Wait you’re not a child now? Your height could have fooled me!” Claude gasps and giggles stupidly when she playfully punches his shoulder. Recovering from his jest he then furrowed his eyebrows. “I didn’t get to meet him. If I did I would have wasted no time and fired an arrow at him.”

A ghost-of-a smile of coy amusement crosses the heir’s pallor face. “That sounds like something you would do.” She then shot him a blank expression. “But from what I have heard, your arrow would have not been able to pierce his armour.”

Claude puffed his chest with pride. “I would have aimed for the mask and split it in two.”

Edelgard continued to stare blankly, eyebrows raised in a ‘really?’ manner. “What, when the Flame Emperor has a shield bigger than his body? Honestly I would have been impressed if you managed to _graze_ his mask.”

Damn it she made a point. It did not help his ego with how she was smirking triumphantly at him. Her smug expression diminishes when her attention shifts to something at his jawline.

“What is that stain on your cheek?”

Oh, he didn’t realise he missed a spot! Claude grazed both sides of his jawline as he chuckled fondly at a memory. “I was cleaning the stables with Leonie, and I may had hit her face with mud… in which she retailed back.”

Oh the princess did not just roll her eyes at him…! With a shake of her head she straightened up from leaning her forearms against the wall and approached closer to him. Taking the hint he straightened himself and turned to her.

“I need you to divert your eyes away from my hand.”

Hold up-what…? There is a sombre expression on her face, one that Claude has never seen from her before. When he thinks of the scars that he saw diseasing her biceps and legs, and the nightmares she has at nights about being sliced and maimed, he now understands her reluctance for him to see. Without a word he nods and turns his eyes skywards. Whilst he loves learning of other’s secrets, he is respectful of boundaries.

“I’m sorry, my hand is quite… rough…”

He simply breathes out ‘that’s fine’. Something callous cups his chin to tilt it ever-so slightly for the owner to use her thumb to brush the stain on his left jawline. Rough and bumpy is the first thing that registers in Claude’s head when he feels the fingers against his chin. Faded scars feel like canyons ingrained in her hand. Yet callous as the fingers feel, they are, oxymoronically, soft and gentle. She is being considerate of how she thumbs the stain with a slightly wetted thumb, and it makes the charmer hitch his breath at this delightful sensation. Smoother hands have cupped his face and touched it, yet none hold a candle to how tender Edelgard is being. Regardless of how scarred her hand is, he does not shiver at the sensation. Instead he finds beauty and strength, as well a soul that is gentle but fiery with determination.

On instinct, as he felt her pulling away out of disgust as to how her hand must feel against him, he gently presses her hand to his cheek. He keeps it anchored, lightly, so to give her the opportunity to retract it if she is still uncomfortable. Boldly he gradually lowers his eyes to look into her stunned lilac eyes. He hopes that his eyes and light smile tells her that this is more than fine, that he is not disgusted by her hand, and that he even finds himself awed by her. Usually he would curse his cheeks in turning pink, but now he embraces it as his smile grows when his hand rubs circles against her knuckles and joints. The way she gasps and then softens her face, now uncharacteristically emotional, tells him that she is beyond touched by his openness and kindness.

He likes her. He likes her a lot, more than anyone he has met. He likes her more than deemed appropriate between two House leaders.

“Hey Edel, there you-oh!”

Immediately as if the two were made of hot coal they retracted and turned to the source. Monica appeared, glancing curiously between the two with puckered lips in what appeared to be her catching on to something.

“So you got a boyfriend this year! Congratulations!” Monica cheered with a clap of her hands.

Crimson engulfed the entirety of Edelgard’s face as she quickly placed her white glove back on. She cleared her throat as she tried to compose herself. “No, Claude von Riegan is not my boyfriend. I was simply cleaning a stain on his left jawline.”

“Yeah, I had a mud stain from mucking around in the stables!” Claude added hastily with a forced-looking grin. He then pointed to the redhead. “Monica, right? I’m Claude von Riegan, future sovereign of the Lecister Alliance.”

“Wow, so it is true! There really is a heir to the Alliance!” Monica exclaimed as she gawked at the tanned boy. She then turned to Edelgard. “I ain’t judging if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend, Edel! But I do need to talk you.”

Edelgard insisted once again that they are not together, only for her to be dragged by the wrist by the redhead. As she was dragged away she turned to Claude and mouthed ‘sorry’ as she was taken away. Now all who remained was Claude, standing stock-still, his hand on his jawline where Edelgard’s hand had been. Soon after a terrifying thought came to him, and his heart skipped a beat. His pink blush grew red, and his emerald eyes shimmered as they widened at the daunting idea that plagued his mind. Tried as he did to rid and rationalise his thoughts, he could not. To go against this thought felt like swimming up a current. Everything came back to this one idea.

He may be falling for Edelgard von Hresvelg.


	8. On Feelings and Subtlety

**A/N: 2000 views? For a rare-pair!? I... I'm flattered beyond words. Thank you all for your kudos, bookmarks and comments! Truly they make my day. **

**Just to answer a few things:**

**'Rengor': The beauty of their ship is the whole 'what we could have been' dynamic. But I have been contemplating about how this story may evolve; it has already evolved from being a one-shot, to a five-chapter exploration to full blown character study.**

**'Oh my' and 'JohnnyAppleShy': You brought in some valuable suggestions! I wanted to write more characters outside the two. Somehow I forgot about Cyril! This chapter is based around your suggestions, so I thank you very much for them :D!**

* * *

“What’s going on between you and Edelgard?”

Looking up from his meal that consisted of spiced fish and vegetables from beyond the continent, Claude’s emerald eyes blink in puzzlement. Hilda stands before him, her hands on her hips and a pout upon her intrigued expression, pink eyes gleaming as if to pry the chest open that is her House leader. Currently they are in the Dining Hall with the rest of the Golden Deer, having finished class early due to the Professor deciding to offer solo lessons to help Flayn keep up in her new class.

To no one’s surprise Raphael came into the hall first to grab the most succulent dishes. Ignatz apologised on behalf of his muscular friend when he came in next, and then went over to sit with Raphael. Leonie sat at the far end of the hall with Marianne, as a means to help the forlorn girl grow more comfortable around people. Lorenz joined the two (Claude _may_ had insulted him regarding how ridiculously ludicrous nobility can be) and interacted with them well, having warmed to Leonie, and thus showing that while he could be stuck-up he is capable of unlearning things dear to him to improve himself as a person. As for the House leader: he is sitting at the opposite far end, always preferring to be alone when he ate to contemplate issues.

Claude cocks an eyebrow at his retainer, knowing that his best friend is one that loves a good gossip. That was how they bonded after all.

“Nothing romantic, if that is what you’re insinuating,” Claude remarks, ignoring the way he has been feeling lately and how his heart seemed to sink at that idea.

That deadpan expression of knitted eyebrows and an unimpressed frown indicates that she does not believe him. “Yeah, I’m not buying that.”

She sits on the table with a leg over the other, her head turned to him as she shot him a knowing smile. “She comes to your room to… learn something from you…? I can’t hear too clearly from my room. For the past week she’s been making time for your teachings.”

“So?”

Hilda rolled her eyes. “_So_ that says a lot about Edelgard! She’s always _so_ busy with princess and school stuff, yet she manages to make time for you!” She waves a hand at him, acting like a mother being disappointed that her child isn’t catching on. “Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Claude would be lying if he said that the thought of the princess developing feelings for him made him feel either nonchalant or amused. Instead he stupidly feels a pleasant warmth course through him, like having a hot bowl of soup on a cold winter’s night. Curses he is acting like a typical teenager having a crush and fantasising about their crush returning the feelings! Fortunately his rational side comes to his rescue to bluntly remind him that there is no way Edelgard likes him like that. That thought doesn’t dampen his spirits in the slightest; on the contrary, it assures him that he isn’t some crush-struck simpleton.

“She is trying to gauge me if I’m a reliable ally to her, or a potential political rival,” Claude responds oh-so-nonchalantly: he is a master at remaining neutral. He shrugs and takes a bite of his meal. “That’s what I’m doing too: if I’m going to take my grandfather’s place, I need to know who’s a friend and who’s a foe.”

“By spending most of your time with only Edelgard?” Damn it… She does have a point. Great, is he this obvious about his crush? Hilda then placed her chin atop her knuckles, a devilish grin etched on her face. “You got a crush on her!”

Thank the… Goddess or whoever that Hilda isn’t so loud, compared to Lorenz’s scolding and Raphael’s munching, otherwise his suave complexion would have shattered by having had the Golden Deer overhear this conversation. Somehow he doesn’t sink into his chair or choke on his food; instead he hides his bottom lips with his teeth, and his eyebrows furrow in frustration. His grip on his fork tightens as he takes another bite of his spiced fish. There is no point in denying it with Hilda anymore. One look shot at her says ‘yes, you’re right, but you best not tell anyone’. Hilda covers her mouth with the back of her hand to stifle her giggles of triumphant and glee. She then flings herself off the table to sit on the bench and scoot closer to him. He grumbles when she nudges his side, and notices in the corner of his eye how her pearly whites, practically blinding, are still intact.

“Don’t you worry: I won’t tell a single soul,” Hilda utters only for his ears to hear. “I wouldn’t want the word to spread, otherwise I think that snake-looking retainer of Edelgard’s would kill you in your sleep.”

That, admittedly, got an amused snort from Claude. It still didn’t rid his vehement embarrassment. Just thinking about the princess is making him grow self-conscious about how he acts around her. Not being shrewd enough and having others view and ridicule him as some everyday teenager adds to him feeling self-conscious of his actions. Worst of all is how conflicted he feels. On one hand he wishes that he never had these feelings for her, yet on the other he relishes in the warmth that comes from her. The logical side of his brain pesters him endlessly that Edelgard is nothing more than a political ally, and that he shouldn’t try to get cosy with her: not with everything he desires to achieve. But then some part of his mind conjures up images of when he woke up at night after fantasising about her that left him flustered beyond belief. 

Knowing it is a gamble, but that he must take the risk if he is to better and master his nonchalance, he leans over to Hilda and inquires, “Am I really _that_ obvious?”

Hilda taps her chin. Most people would think she is mocking him, yet he knows her well enough that he sees that she truly is considering his question. “I would say no, considering I haven’t met anyone that said that they think you two are a thing.”

She then flinched as if she remembered something. “Oh, except for Dorothea: she’s definitely suspecting something.”

How wonderful… At least Hilda was being honest with him. All he could do is make sure to not speak to Edelgard too often whenever she is needed (or he for that matter), otherwise people will start to suspect. He certainly isn’t going to avoid the princess, because he does value her company and he does share similar ideas regarding their suspicions of the Church. Nothing is going to change between them, only that they try to not see each other when they are needed elsewhere. No doubt Edelgard will share the sentiment.

The sound of boisterous chatters comes from behind, alerting Claude and the Golden Deer’s attention to the opened doors. Ashe comes in, soon followed by Felix and Annette, then the rest of the Blue Lions (save for Sylvain, who has converted to the Black Eagles). No sooner when the Blue Lions entered to move to their designated tables the Black Eagles came next. Claude waved and called to Lysithea, in which the magical prodigy groaned at the attention he brought to her. Ferdinand sauntered in with that oh-so charming grin of his, followed by the ominous Hubert to dampen the orange-haired man’s mood.

When Edelgard entered she appeared to instantly hone her attention onto Claude. The two seem to always lock eyes whenever they meet in a crowd. She lets out a small yet genuine smile, her lilac eyes crinkling ever-so slightly to showcase that she truly is pleased to see him. He can’t help but smile back. By the princess’ side is Dorothea, who whispers something to the heir while her eyes seemed to train on him. Whatever she said brought a pink blush to Edelgard, and she scolded her best friend then walked to the designated Black Eagles table, all the while Dorothea giggled something to herself. Now Claude feels baffled as he turns away from the doors, his eyebrows furrowed lightly as he contemplated what just occurred. Surely the princess doesn’t have a crush on him… Dorothea probably made some inappropriate innuendo to rile up her best friend. Maybe Monica told the brunette about what occurred a few days ago about the redhead mistaking the two lords as being a thing. That understandably would be embarrassing for Edelgard.

Caspar’s cheering broke his contemplative thoughts and attracted nearly everyone’s attention to him. A wide grin encompasses his face as he whoops with ardent excitement.

“Oh yeah! The Battle of the Eagle and Lion is coming up!”

Ah! That’s right!

The Battle of the Eagle and Lion: the annual event at Garreg Mach where the three Houses compete at Gronder Field in a mock battle. It was created to acknowledge the creation of the Kingdom of Faerghus, as well as allow students- future leaders-to demonstrate all they have learnt at the academy in battle. Honestly Claude finds this event ludicrous: for a religion that wishes to emphasise peace and unification of Fódlan, it is very eager to see students fight as if at war. This event mitigates the harsh and terrible reality of war, the pointlessness of it all, the deaths of people at the hands of others, never ever having a choice on the matter. It is all a big game, one that is meant to satisfy the Church and the pride of old and fattened nobles that use their children to bolster their egos. 

Still, that doesn’t mean he can’t have some fun with it~!

With a devious idea in mind he stands up, winks at Hilda, and then saunters to stand between the Black Eagles and Blue Lions. He claps his hands loudly to attract everyone’s attention. Once all eyes are upon him he grins towards the two House leaders, emerald eyes twinkling mischievously and eyebrows wiggling in challenge. Edelgard observes him with suspicion, and Dimitri eyes him with wonder. Wanting to exaggerate the show Claude gives a bow to each House. When he stands up he has his hands behind his back, standing straight, a solemn good little noble, his pout exquisite and his chin sharp with a tilt of his head. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Claude begins, a nod offered to each House. A ghost-of-a smile etched itself on his face when he saw Edelgard roll her eyes. “Since the Battle of the Eagle and Lion is coming up, I propose we set some stakes.”

The prince cocks his head to the side. “Oh? And what do you propose, Claude?”

Claude let out his charming smile to all and shot a finger in the air. “The wining House gets to choose which losing House has to clean the dining hall, the stables, do the gardening, so forth, for an entire month!”

“A… A _month?_” Linhardt mumbles to himself in horror, shivering at the thought of having to do work outside of studying.

“That’s just cruel!” Sylvain spoke as he slammed his hands on the table and stood up. A smile of challenge then morphs on his face. “I like it.”

“How immature,” Hubert bluntly remarks, arms crossed, his single yellow eye glaring trenchantly towards the tanned boy. “To think you will be the Leicester Alliance’s new sovereign.”

“No need to be jealous, Hubert,” Claude jested with a wiggle of his finger, his smirk widening at how antagonised the retainer grew.

He then looked between the prince and the princess with his eyebrows cocked. “So what do my fellow House leaders think? Want in, or do you know you have no chance in beating the Golden Deer?”

Dimitri chuckled amusedly at his gloat, a genuine smile adorning his face and his icy eyes gleaming at the prospect of enjoying an innocent game. Princey really is predictable, Claude thinks wryly, repressing the urge to stare deadpanned at the blond.

“I think it sounds harmless enough. Perhaps it will allow for some further bonding between us future leaders!” Dimitri attested, his eyes darting to his Lions to gauge if they agree. Outside Felix they all nodded.

Claude then shifted his attention to Edelgard. The future emperor placed her hands atop the table, a confident smile etched on her face as her eyes darted to the Black Eagles and back to him. He doesn’t blame her ego: the Black Eagles has the most amount of students of any Houses. Still, numbers mean nothing unless everyone can cooperate.

“There is no possibility of the Black Eagles failing to the likes of you and the Lions,” she started with a boast, her voice dripping in haughtiness that… really shouldn’t excite the tanned boy as much. “Naturally we accept your challenge.”

His grin is absolutely feral, with how it reaches his ears and how his teeth practically glow with ardent jubilance. He extended his arms out and glanced to each House leader. “Then let us shake hands to seal the deal~!”

The two leaders stood up to comply. Both their grips are strong, indicative of their physical strength and their utmost confidence in their success. Oh it would be _such_ a shame to ruin their haughtiness in front of nobles across the continent. Somehow he supressed a snicker at the thought of making snake-face have to clean the stables. The thought of them languishing, although sadistic as it sounds, brings a sly smile to his face after he ceased shaking the leaders’ hands.

* * *

In the library Claude borrows a few tactics books. Most students will either be fishing for the tournament to win Flayn’s approval (poor girl was embarrassed), or training at the Training Grounds. Fishing, although something he is curious about, considering Almyra only contained the occasional oasis and other bodies of water, is what he shall be avoiding. Of course he will train, but most of his training will be in secret: he has not told anyone that he can ride a wyvern. That is a surprise for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, for a leader must have an advantage over their enemies. So for most of the day he shall be reading some battle tactics in the comforts of his room. Brawn is one thing, but it is nothing compared to brains. As someone who grew up in the harsh deserts of Almyra as a biracial man he had to adapt and use his intelligence to overcome the odds. 

As he is about to exit his peripheral vision catches sight of someone crouched at a bookshelf, that someone collecting a small pile of books. Nearing the person it is revealed to be Lysithea, and at this proximity Claude can read the titles of the books. They’re… children books? Aw does Lysithea still love reading children’s fairy tales? Jokes aside Claude is puzzled, knowing the magical prodigy quite well that she would borrow textually dense books on the most advanced forms of magic.

“I would make a joke about you being a kid… but I am more surprised than anything else,” Claude speaks, visibly startling the younger girl. 

Standing up with the pile of books in hands, Lysithea turns to him and furrows her eyebrows at him. “Well it’s a good thing you didn’t make a joke, otherwise I would have vaporised you.”

“Whoa, don’t need to get so defensive,” he said, genuinely startled by her hostility. “It’s just I can’t help but wonder if those books are for someone else.”

Pink eyes glance around the library nervously, as if searching to see if the two are alone. Taking the hint he nears closer. She shoots him a glare that told him to keep this a secret, and he simply gave a serious nod. Slowly they start leaving the library to head off to someone’s room.

“They’re for Cyril,” she stated with a bite of her lips. She exhales deeply, her expression softening in remorse as she stared at her books. “He can’t read.”

Wait… _What?_

This news causes his expression to uncharacteristically harden: frown deep as a canyon, eyebrows furrowed with angered surprise, and emerald eyes blazing with cool fire. His fingers clench tightly against the books he’s holding, denting the spines of some, and his joints ache from the intensity. Behind his pursed lips his teeth grind uncomfortably as he tries with all his might to suppress his disgust and cause a scene.

Why is Cyril illiterate when he has been serving Rhea for some time? Oh he knows why, oh he knows and it makes his blood ignite with abhorrence. People that can’t educate themselves are doomed to follow the guidance of one who ‘has’ knowledge. When a person cannot make decisions for themselves, when they are blanketed by ignorance, they are the easiest to manipulate, for how else can they know better? It is extremely easy to indoctrinate someone from a young age, especially when that person feels devoted to their so-called saviour. There is no doubt that the Archbishop has taught, or teaches, Cyril to abandon his heritage and culture: it is inferior, backward, full of barbarians. She has ‘saved him from that awful place’ is now engrained into Cyril’s brain, and it will take years, maybe a lifetime, until he can break out of the crushing grip that is indoctrination.

That Archbishop… The Church… they all need to be reformed. If Fódlan ever hopes to move forward and continue to exist then change must be made. 

He nods and smiles at some passing monks, and then once more harden his expression towards Lysithea. “Why hasn’t he told the Archbishop about this?”

“He doesn’t want to be a burden,” Lysithea answered, her lips pursed, clearly not pleased with Cyril’s answer. “What kind of person is the Archbishop to think that someone that is illiterate is a burden? Wouldn’t she want to help him?”

Claude hummed in agreement, eyes flickering with dander. He lowers his voice out of safety regarding potential eavesdroppers: “Perhaps she isn’t the loving person she makes herself out to be.”

Lysithea is one of the only other people that Claude trusts to be rational and observant about the world around her. She has no love for the Church or religion, most likely due to something that has happened in her past. He knows how she researches magic ardently, as if she has little time in the world. Truly, whilst he does love mocking her, he respects her.

“After everything she has done, I feel that you are right…” Lysithea acknowledges with a sombre sigh. They are nearing Cyril’s room-it would be empty, considering he is out training for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. “You’d think she would have picked up on his illiteracy.”

Claude doesn’t know what else there is to say. As much as he wants to spread the news with others so to pressure the Archbishop for answers, he knows that it would place Cyril in a bad position. It would humiliate the boy, and reinforce stereotypes of the ‘backward’ Almyra. Beside that Cyril would grow to despise him. Claude needs more friends than enemies, especially ones close to the most powerful institute in all of Fódlan. But he does feel the need to tell Edelgard about this. No doubt she will be mortified and disgusted with this news. Perhaps when she becomes emperor she will have the power to expose Rhea and the Church’s questionable elements, considering Adrestia’s close association with Seiros. Certainly no other country in Fódlan would match the word of an emperor to the oldest country and oldest line that is indirectly connect to the Saint. So yes he is breaking his promise to Lysithea… but only fools keep their promises. 

Wanting to dash the pessimistic thoughts, for he wants to be in a whimsical mood in preparation for the battle, he offers a knowing smirk to Lysithea as they reach the door to Cyril’s room. White eyebrows narrow in annoyance and puzzlement, her frown and glaring making her seem comically unintimidating.

“So are you helping Cyril out of the ‘kindness of your heart’, or is it because you…” Claude spoke with his smirk seeming sinister and cat-like, emerald eyes beaming of the likes that no star could compete with. He wiggled his brows. “…like him~!”

Crimson ignited across Lysithea’s cheeks. Bingo~!

When Lysithea opened the door and entered to avoid his devilish grin Claude reared his head and laughed. Once she set the books down unto the floor he placed his own pile on Cyril’s desk to have free hands. With one hand he brought it to squeeze the younger girl’s cheek, cooing and snorting with laughter when she swatted his hand away.

“Oh, Lysithea’s first crush-I’m so honoured to bear witness to it!” Claude jested, sidestepping to avoid a meek attempt at punching him to shut him up.

“Shut up!” She swore, as she seemed to try to land another hit, only for him to once again move aside.

“Ah, you’re not denying it!” Claude sneered haughtily as he poked her forehead to push her back from attacking him.

“As if you’re one to talk! What about your feelings for Edelgard, huh!”

Ah oh…

Damn it is his cheeks tainting pink? Why now of all times!? He crossed his arms and huffed to settle down his uncharacteristically flustered nature, his emerald eyes trying to look coy as if catching someone’s bluff. His haughty smile now feels strained, paining him and looking forced.

“Feelings, for Edelgard? Honestly Lysithea you are hopeless when it comes to reading people; Edelgard and I are just budding political allies, that is all.” He explains with an innocent shrug, hoping it would convince the magical prodigy that he is amused by her assumption.

Oh how naïve he was to think that it would fool her. Now it is the shorter student’s turn to smirk snootily, her hands on her hips as she pried him with her pink eyes. When he shows no signs of faltering-as if he would give her the luxury to mock him-she wrinkled her nose and let out an exasperated sigh. She brings a hand to her forehead to shake it in dismay.

“And I thought Edelgard was acting like a love-struck fool…”

At that Claude lit up. His neutral façade vanished in less than a second. His arms uncross and his emerald eyes gleam in incredulous disbelief and hopeful joy. “Wait, she likes me-”

_Oh wait-!_

That devilish smirk and crinkled pink eyes indicated that Claude indeed fell for her trap. He grumbled in humiliated dismay, knowing that acting blithe would not convince the magical prodigy that he was playing around. Her barks of victorious laughter ignited a crimson flush across his face, and he could not help but try to burrow his face against his collar to hide it. He waved a hand dismissively at her as a last ditch effort to convince her that he is neutral to the matter.

“So it’s just a crush, big deal,” Claude speaks and rolls his eyes to play the game of being unfazed and not in the least humiliated by Lysithea having picked up on his feelings. “It’s quite normal for people of our ages to experience it.”

“Hey, you can’t act as if it is nothing after teasing me about it!” Lysithea pointed out with a pout. She clicked her tongue, as if realising that this is all a charade. “And I never said I liked Cyril like that-! Oh, phooey; as if we can fool each other…!”

Knowing that it is indeed pointless to act as if he doesn’t have a crush the tanned boy simultaneously let out a defeated sigh with the smaller student. Lysithea sat down on the bed, and Claude decided to join her. Two crushing students, so unused to feeling such emotions for someone, sharing their misfortune by sitting on a bed that doesn’t belong to either of them. Claude is known for flirting; it heightens his charisma and allows him to win over people with his good looks and silver-tongue. Developing romantic feelings never once crossed him, even as a child; he never had the luxury to believe stories of strong female warriors working with princes and falling in love. People have developed crushes on him, yet it never was the other way around. Now all of a sudden he develops a crush on a socially constipated, stick up her arse; utterly adorable, stunningly beautiful, _incredibly strong, wise_-

Wow he really is hopeless…

He lets out a perturbed groan as he throws back his head at this fact. A part of him worries how these feelings may jeopardise his dream, yet the other reminds him that he does not need to pursue them. Surely he can last a year suppressing his crushing so it doesn’t develop into full blown ‘I’m in love with you’ stage. After he graduates he will be too busy as the sovereign to focus on Edelgard… until he has to do business with the emperor… Curses, it appears he is cornered. Nonetheless he will triumph and find a way to keep his feelings minimal. To remain as close friends: perfect. He wins, Edelgard wins, everyone wins!

“…How do I deal with these feelings?” 

Hearing the nervous tone he tilts his head down to gaze at Lysithea. Her dander from before is gone, now replaced with furrowed eyebrows and slightly softened eyes of that of a girl completely at a lost of how to respond to crushing. She then looks to him, her expression beseeching him for guidance. Clearly she believes that his reputation as the suave charmer has landed him in situations where he has mingled and crushed on others.

“I don’t know,” Claude whispers honestly with a shake of his head, his eyebrows furrowed to match her confusion. Lysithea is left speechless. “I know you think I’ve dated people before, but in all honesty I never pined for someone before.”

“Huh,” Lysithea mumbles, not disbelieving him, only wondering how to address this. “So we’re both completely hopeless.”

He can’t help but let out an amused chuckle at her deadpanned comment. He brings a hand to her shoulder to sooth it. “Correct you are.”

She smiles in mutual understanding. Her posture dampens, as well as her spirits. “I want to spend more time with Cyril… but I don’t have time, I… I think-no, I know-that it would be best that I don’t pursue these feelings.”

She has her reasons, he knows how adamant she is about studying and wishing to help her family, so Claude doesn’t pry into the matter. “I hear you, and I relate to you on the ‘not wanting to develop things further’.”

Lysithea cocks an eyebrow at his claim, genuinely puzzled as to why not. “But why not? You will have to marry for political purposes, so what better way then to fall for someone you may have to marry?”

Oh he admires her bluntness, even if it leaves his cheeks tinted pink. “Politics and love don’t mix very well, Lysithea, especially when I am to rule a country. I’m not some margrave that _may_ take that risk.”

_And I will become king of another, larger country._

“Regardless I know you would be overjoyed if you were in a political marriage with Edelgard,” Lysithea dryly remarks with her lips curled into a knowing smile. “I think Fódlan would be in better hands if you two were together.”

“Oh now you’re planning the wedding, huh?” Claude jests and gives the girl a playful nudge. He once again grows serious and sincere. “Even if you don’t think you should develop your relationship with Cyril, I think you shouldn’t avoid him altogether.”

Lysithea hums, unsure, but not upset by the prospect. She then beams up at him. “Someone has to teach him to read and write.”

At that Claude grins pleasingly and ruffles her hair (much to her chagrin). “That’s it; have some fun, Lysithea!”

After recovering from getting her hair tousled the magical prodigy straightens up after recalling something. “Ah, that’s right: I need to be off mastering my magic!”

She lunged herself off the bed and headed over to the door. When she opened it she stayed between the doorway. Claude eyed her curiously, wondering if she had something else to say.

Lysithea looked over her shoulder, an auspicious smile gracing her pallor features. “Edelgard likes you too, Claude.”

Without another word, and not waiting for his response, the magical prodigy left. Claude is left utterly speechless, malfunctioned physically and mentally. His jaw hangs low as if someone forcefully pulled it down; emerald eyes widen to the point his muscles strained against his eye sockets, and the crimson blush that danced across his cheeks down to his neck burned like hot iron. Surely Lysithea made that remark to rile him up—no, she had said it with a genuine smile and softened look. The thought makes his ears ring an unbearable din, and the charmer is left uncharacteristically tongue-tied and brain dead.

Edelgard… crushing on him…?

How comical—as if the princess would be crushing on someone. Yes she is human, but she is far too devoted and focused, more so than he with his dreams he dare says, to feel love-struck. Even if she could develop a crush it certainly wouldn’t be towards him… right? Indeed he is charming, and she is smitten with his looks, as he has noted in more than one occasion. But surely after getting to know him, and seeing through his façade, she would have stopped being enamoured by him. Lysithea isn’t some romance expert, what with how she doesn’t realise that Cyril is developing feelings for her. Edelgard may only show interest in him and be cordial so to form political bonds, and nothing more. Nevertheless… she flirts with him, has friendly banters that she doesn’t seem to have with anyone but him, trusts him to allow him to graze and touch her… Could it really be true?

He turns away from the doorway to look down. If it is true then he knows for a fact that she would be suppressing her emotions, doubly so compared to him. Both of them trying to act rational about the future of their country by denying the right to fall for someone of their choice. He snorts amusedly at the mutuality shared between them. Knowing her she will still spend time with him to not spread rumours, and to in the very least continue their friendship and pursue political partnership. Pushing those ideas aside to think that there is a possibility that she likes him-

For the first time since coming to terms with his crush he allows a stupid grin to encompass his face.


	9. It Is Only a Crush; Temporary

**A/N: An asexual? Writing sexual tension? It's more likely than you think! Thank you once more for your suggestions in the comments! Each kudo, bookmark and comment makes my day! **

**Lokum is 'Turkish delights' (they... most likely weren't invented back then, but I shall take artistic liberations!) and helva is halva!**

**For those curious in recent news: yes, I will use Claude's real name in this fic. When is for you to find out ;)!**

* * *

With a smile and a ‘thank you’ Claude retrieved a bag of treats from an Almyran merchant. He turned away and decided to head towards the Training Grounds, his smile still intact and genuine as his emerald eyes glanced down at the contents of the bag. The treats are these gel rectangles that contain dates, pistachios, and hazelnuts (he picked a variety of flavours), all patted down with sugar. They are quite new dishes, having originated during his childhood. Whilst he is not one for sweets he does have fond memories of consuming lokum as tokens of gratitude from his father and mother. He also chose some helva, sweets made from tahini that resembled little blocks, another favourite treat of his growing up. These treats are easy to smuggle into the monastery-he must, otherwise if he ate cooked Almyran dishes people would suspect his biracial origins.

These sweets are not just for him.

Knowing how Edelgard has a sweet tooth, he is quite curious as to what she would make of Almyran sweets. Of course the ‘ulterior’ motive is to get her to have a snack with him somewhere relatively private to discus about Cyril. It shouldn’t draw too much attention: two House leaders sharing some treats. Some probably will think he poisoned the sweets. Regardless none should pry too deeply into the matter… except for Hubert. But he is a dog to Edelgard, so she should be able to shoo him away. That thought turned his smile into a snide smirk as he climbed the steps to the Training Grounds.

Entering the area he looks around for the white haired, lilac ribboned girl. It is late afternoon, the sun slowly setting in the distance, the sky coloured amber and the clouds pink. Few people are out during this time: Felix, of course, training obsessively like the freak he is, and Raphael training with Caspar to see who is the best with gauntlets. Usually Leonie would be here too, but Teach must have convinced her to focus on and prioritise studying tactics. Feminine grunts attract his attention, followed by the thunderous clank of armoured legs stomping. Moving over to the source he feels as if he freezes on the spot. Emerald eyes widen and stare, unceremoniously so, his mouth lightly parted in awe.

Edelgard snarled as she dodged a sword from Petra, her lilac eyes narrowed fiercely and her body tensing in anticipation. She is clad in the fortress knight armour, gold and red, colours of Adrestia, a mighty axe clutched in one hand and a gigantic shield, almost as tall as her, in another. Even in such heavy armour she seemed to effortlessly dodge Petra’s blows, like she wasn’t wearing anything to weigh her down. Those mighty pauldrons, their sheer size comical to Claude, seem weightless when she swings her axe at her assassin-clad friend. Sweat shoots from her silver hair, once perceived by him as making the princess look like an old woman, reflecting the sunlight and making it and its user glow. Lilac eyes burn intensely, sparks dancing against them, bringing out their allure and further adorning her pallor skin and white eyelashes and brows. Every blow of her axe, every parry of her shield, and every step she made are effortless, flowing like water, strength with no equal.

She’s… stunningly beautiful…

Snapping out of his trance when Edelgard defeated Petra the tanned boy sauntered over. Mustering his award-winning smile he appears before the two girls, offering respectful nods to each of them.

“Training hard, I see!” Claude remarks, eyeing both girls to gauge how they are holding up. After all, his House must win: the only way to know the Deer’s chances is to see how others manage.

Petra beams at him with confidence evident in her straightened posture and gleaming brown eyes. “We are doing the training to defeat our prey in coming of up Battle of the Eagle and Lion!”

‘Prey’, huh? That is quite the gruesome way to put it, although it does fire him up at the idea of annihilating his competition. Edelgard wipes the sweat off her forehead, her light heaving indicating that she still tires in the armour. Well that certainly gives him the advantage. She turns to him and smiles smugly, as if saying that she knows that the Eagles will win-no, that they have already won. That haughty expression excites him once again, yet he manages to retain that with his own smile turning smug towards her.

“Looks like you exerted yourself, Princess,” Claude states oh-so sweetly, and winks at her. “Might want to go and sleep off to recover your strength.”

“And give you the opportunity to train and defeat me? Not on your life,” Edelgard rebukes with her eyebrows raised in a manner of ‘nice try’. “I also informed Seteth about your… ‘obsession’ on poisoning things and fighting dirty. He will be keeping a close eye on you, meaning you won’t be able to cheat.”

Damn it… that lowers his chances in winning. Regardless he can still win. He lets out an exaggerated gasp of hurt, adding to the effect by raising a hand to his mouth. “Oh how you always spoil my fun, Princess!” he lowered his hand. “But my Deer will still best you.”

“Over confidence is unwise-I expected better from you.”

“Sorry to say, Princess, but it is _you_ who is being overconfident.”

“Do you wish for me to be leaving the two of you?”

Realising that he and Edelgard had completely forgotten about Petra they turn to her to offer her apologetic looks. She doesn’t look angered or upset in the slightest, only curious as to whether she should leave or not. Edelgard clears her throat to shatter the awkward and unbearable silence between her and the other House leader. When Claude registered the bag of treats in his hand, he remembered why he came here in the first place.

“I am planning on inviting your House leader to share some meal to discuss more about how the battle will unfold,” Claude explained and threw the bag up and down to emphasise his point. Emerald eyes looked carefully towards Edelgard, hoping that she will catch onto his meaning. “Princey has stressed about us bonding more as future rulers.”

No surprising Edelgard understood his agenda, as indicated by a subtle nod and solemn lilac eyes. Edelgard then turned back to Petra, who uttered that she has understanding, and even encourages her House leader to pursue the matter.

“I advice that you find Linhardt to motivate him to work.” Claude saw how she rolled her eyes in disappointment towards the lazy man. She then smiled kindly towards her friend. “If you can motivate him then I owe you a Brigidian dish.”

At that Petra chuckled wholeheartedly, her smile twinkling and her eyes crinkled in joy. “I’d be liking that greatly! This is a challenge that I shall be conquering!”

With that addressed the Brigidian dashed off, placed her training sword into the barrel containing training equipment, and then headed towards the library where Linhardt no doubt will be. Once she left Edelgard turned her attention to him, eyebrows narrowed slightly out of wonder as to what he has to say. As usual Claude acts coy: there is nothing important to discuss, it is all just a friendly get together between two leaders. He regards her armour and how red she is from exertion, leading him to formulate another alternative to delivering the news of Cyril. Dining might be unnecessary when he can help her out of the armour in the changing areas. After all it does take additional assistance to properly take off armour. From where he could see there is no sign of the future emperor’s retainer, meaning that he has the valid excuse to assist her himself. Undressing one’s armour is not scandalous, for the owner is clad in an arming doublet and trousers. This is the perfect opportunity to speak of Cyril. 

“I doubt you’d want to dine with me in that armour of yours,” Claude points with a twirl of his finger towards her. “You’re going to need some assistance in undressing.”

She instantly picks up on his plan, and simply nods in agreement. Out of curiosity Claude, recalling how Hubert is tempted more and more to assassinate him, inquires, “Where’s your dead-looking retainer? He usually dogs your tracks!”

Edelgard snorts at how he refers to her trusted friend, taking droll amusement out of it, even when she remained frowning. She walks on over to a barrel to place her axe away, and then rested the borrowed shield against a wall of other training shields, with Claude following behind.

“I instructed him to do some bonding exercises with the Eagles, considering that he is quite the menacing looking person,” Edelgard explains as she leads him to the changing area.

He comes to her side and rears his head back, unable to contain his laughter. “Oh now I _definitely_ know that the Deer are going to win, with how your retainer can’t make friends!”

“Hubert isn’t that bad,” Edelgard argues, but there is nothing defensive in her tone. They enter the changing area, which much to their fortune is empty. “He simply needs to ease himself around others.”

“Same goes for you,” Claude remarks, waiting for the incoming playful punch from her. None come; instead she shoots him a knowing smile over her shoulder as she comes to stand in front of him. He places the bag of treats on a bench to the side, and arrives back behind her to scan her getup for the undressing.

Now in all honesty Claude is not the best with dismantling armour. Sure he has done it a few times: his grandfather trained him when he came to Fódlan over a year ago. Back in Almyra he also had to undress armour, having served as a knave under his father’s guise to train him in the frontlines, although the equipment were… less heavier than the Fódlanese versions. Most Almyrans substitute defensive gear for lighter wear to allow for quick and swift kills. Sabres and bows and arrows are an Almyran’s best friend; hence, he was taught to use the bow at a young age. 

Regardless it is not impossible; a hassle, but doable. The best thing to start off with would be… the pauldrons. They look to be the heaviest part of the getup, and unlike usual armour it is separate from the arm-wear. With a clap and rub of his palms together he then brings them to the left pauldron to unclip it. His deft fingers slid under the gaps in the connection between pauldron and arm-wear. Cotton registers against his tips: it is the princess’ arming doublet. As he soothes his fingers to find the next clasp he feels a taut broad shoulder, built perfectly for this armour. Perhaps he lingers too long against the shoulder as he slowly, even slower than deemed the slowest, unclasps and takes off the pauldron. It is, unsurprisingly, heavy, but he assures Edelgard that he can place it away before she could take it from him.

Once it is placed away to the designated area where they hang armour he returned and focussed on the last pauldron. Again he dances his fingers across the strong shoulder, delighting in how it flinches to his touch. Even in the thick doublet he feels the muscles contort through it, reminding him of Edelgard’s strength and well-built stature. Oh how’d he love for her to pin him against a wall and-

“What is it you wished to discuss in private?”

Recalling why he is doing this in the first place (and reminding certain thoughts that, that is _not the reason_), he shakes his head to rid the cumbersome fantasies, and said, “I-it is about Cyril.”

Did he, Claude von Riegan, charmer and man of not the silver-tongue but the golden-tongue, stammer like a bashful boy? By the Goddess he seriously cannot be faltering so easily due to feeling a little bit thrilled to touching a person’s _shoulder_ of all things-of all things appropriate, curse his dirty mind!

“The boy that is devoted to the Archbishop? What of him?” Edelgard catechises, her lilac eyes observing him as he takes off the last pauldron and moves to hang it opposite its sibling.

Snapping out of his teenage syndrome he frowns pensively as he tries to figure out how to deliver the news while undoing her armour. He mutters that he will assist her with the front of her breastplate. She lifts her arms to chest level to assist him. Best to cut to the chase. Doing so will make this divesting of the breastplate less awkward for the two.

“Lysithea informed me while gathering children fairy tales that he is illiterate.”

Flabbergast etches across Edelgard’s face, from the way her eyebrows widen and how her eyes flash with disbelief. It quickly morphs into vehement disgust: brows furrowed deeply that it creates crevices of wrinkles across her head, lilac burning with loathing unfathomable to any rage, and teeth barred as if to suppress a frustrated scream. It is the sort of look that he himself displayed, and it relieves him to know that she does not think him to be over-reacting to a ‘barbaric’ child being unable to read. Many would think nothing odd of an Almyran being illiterate, yet once again Edelgard demonstrates that she sees Almyrans beyond the stereotypes. They are humans, like her and others.

“It seems the Archbishop wishes for him to remain ignorant and obedient to her word,” Edelgard spat out venomously as he took off the breastplate.

Claude, although walking away from her to place the armour away, gives a nod to which she no doubt would have seen clearly from her view.

“Cyril is ashamed to share his illiteracy to her,” Claude further explains as he returns, and moves behind her to take off the back armour. “For a loving and kind Archbishop, you would think that he would be open to share this in hopes of her teaching him.”

“It is not fear holding him back, it is veneration,” Edelgard clarifies, relaxing her posture when she feels the burden of the back armour peel off her. “Cyril genuinely thinks that she can do no wrong.”

Unfortunately true: indoctrination succeeds when one is willing to throw their life away in believing that their saviour is godly and benevolent. The reason he coaxed Cyril into joining was precisely the desire to free him from the Church’s control: to be able to think freely, decide for himself. Alas he decided to join the Black Eagles due to… now that he thinks about it, it must be because Lysithea is part of the House. Even so he has tried to socialise with the boy, although he acts quite defensive and suspicious of him. People are always suspicious of him, which he is used to, being cautious of others around him, but it does hurt that Cyril is so weary with him. All that he can do is win his trust. No matter how long it will take, he shall strive to liberate the boy.

After fastening the breastplate and back armour together with the displayed pauldrons he then turns to regard Edelgard. Divested of the shoulders and torso she wears a red arming doublet, bound at the front by black knots. Red truly looks as if the colour was made for her. It brings out her pallor skin, shining like the highest quality marble, and it heightens her lilac eyes, ever alluring with the wisdom and strength of their owner reflected in them.

“The best you or anyone can do is teach him to think for himself, and give him time to adapt,” Claude advises as his emerald eyes rake her form, contemplating if there is anything else that requires his assistance to divest. “Let Lysithea teach him to read, while you and the Eagles try to befriend him so that he can see beyond the Archbishop.”

“A wise choice… although that is to be expected from you.”

Hold up-did she just compliment him, sincerely? He can’t contain his surprise as his eyebrows light up. A grin encompasses his face as he approaches her, eyes gleaming like the finest emeralds around, and teeth blindingly white.

“You, sincerely complimenting me? What’s gotten into you, Edelgard?” He jests with a wink. Out of mock worry he rests a hand against her shoulder. “Is illness causing you to spout such blasphemous claims?”

She snorts amusedly at his antics, and then a warm smile adorns her face, crinkling her eyes and spreading to her ears. Her genuine smiles are utterly breathtaking, but he would never admit that to her or anyone.

“Sorry to disappoint you but no I am not falling ill, especially not before the Battle of the Eagle and Lion,” Edelgard jokes dryly, smile still intact. Out of seemingly nowhere she grows bashful: she looks away, pink dusting her cheeks that make her oh-so adorable that it should be illegal. “You are… good company, Claude.”

Oh…!?

Now he feels his cheeks turn pink. A pathetic splutter escaped him, and by the Goddess he curses how his gold-tongue is now tied in knots. Once more he recalls Lysithea’s comment, only this time he is even more perplexed about what to make of it. Surely he is over-reading Edelgard’s words and body language. This girl is socially inept after all, so for her to confess that she enjoys someone’s company leaves her feeling daunted and embarrassed. That is perfectly logical, what with how she flushed as red as a tomato when he caught her being a sisterly figure to Bernadetta. Charismatic as she is she doesn’t bode well when mingling with others on friendly terms. Humorous as it may sound but he is secretly proud of her opening up to him and others. It isn’t easy for her, and he dares say that she is doing better than he is when it comes to genuine bonds.

Deciding to drop it to save face, Claude figures that divesting the fauld and tassels should be next. He uttered he would be undoing them, in which Edelgard stated that he best to get on his knees to unfasten the harnesses due to his height. Obeying he goes on his knees in front of her, and begins to unfasten the fauld and tassels. It quickly dawns on him how this must look like to an outsider. Him, Claude von Riegan, on his knees in front of the future emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg’s crotch, with his hands fidgeting around the front and backside of her tailbone. Somehow he doesn’t blush, even when lewd images of him undoing the strings of her trousers enter his thoughts. Perhaps he manages to refrain his bashfulness, though self-conscious that he has become, because the devious side of his brain goads him to mess with Edelgard.

Messing with the princess overpowers self-consciousness.

The biggest devilish-grin in his entire life encompasses his face, and he looks up at Edelgard. Her attention is forward, solemn, clearly having not realised how sexual this looks. There is a high chance that she will not be speaking to him for some time, and a higher chance that she will beat him to a pulp. But logic be damned if he wasn’t going to mess with her.

“You know, Princess, at this level it looks like I’m pleasuring you with my mouth.”

A humiliated splutter escapes her, and he notices the crimson blush bloom across her cheeks and down her neck. She lowers he head to look at him, the blush still etched on her face as he deliberately slid the tassel and fauld slowly down her legs. Then, unexpectedly, she smiles slyly at him, eyes narrowed slightly and white eyebrows raised as if in a seductive manner.

“With how you sounded it implies that you _wish_ to pleasure me.”

Instantly he halted slipping the armour and a startled gasp escapes him. Now it is his turn to turn bright red. The so-called charmer has his mouth agape as he gawks up at the princess, completely floored by what she had just said. Her smile widens at his reaction, delighting in his tongue-tied nature. Damn… she took him by surprise. Well if this is a game then he certainly isn’t going to lose.

Once more he resumes slipping down the armour, his eyes glancing at the strings of her black trousers and back at her. He can feel his pupils dilate, desire present in their haziness for only the princess to see. Once the tassel and fauld reach her ankles he boldly massages his hands against her hips, revelling at how she shivered at his touch.

“Do you want me to?”

There is no mistaking her pupils widening at his ‘proposal’. Her breathing hitches for a second, and then his hearing detects it growing laboured and ever-so shaky. Even when he feels his blush burn against his cheeks he is thrilled seeing her flush red and seemingly speechless before him. For some time they stare into each other’s eyes, forgetting why they commenced this divesting of armour in the first place. As more time passes he feels his smirk start to falter as the tension pierces through him. His massaging hands grind to a halt, knowing full well that his mind is seducing his hands to untie her trousers and yank them off. Even unmoving his palms and fingertips feel how muscular her hips are. Thick as the trousers are he still feels heat radiate from them. A moan nearly rumbles through his throat, yet somehow he gulps it down. Strength, wisdom, and beauty… A combination that is delicious to his mind.

The more lewd his thoughts grew the redder he got, until it became unbearable for him to stay in this position. Instantaneously, as he shot up (and pulled his back muscles) with the tassels and fauld, Edelgard turned away with a nervous clearing of her throat. Ears burned unbearably, and he bit his lips to suppress a startled yelp when he felt something straining against his trousers. Not a believer he finds himself internally getting down on his knees and praying to the Goddess to have mercy on him: don’t have Edelgard turn around and see his erection. Stiff as a rusty gear he awkwardly shuffles towards the display, grumbling as his cumbersome erection refuses to die out. Like any reasonable boy he would touch himself to relieve the feeling… except he is not alone. Sure he has been discreet about pleasuring himself, considering no one ever told him to keep it in his pants from nearby rooms, but Edelgard is too perceptive! Glancing over his shoulder he is beyond relieved to see that she is unfastening the arm and leg armour, her back still to him while she sat to divest the rest. Even from here her red ears shine like a beacon in the darkest caves.

Mustering all his strength to keep his voice cool and levelled he blurted, “I know we discussed everything I needed to say, but I have a bag of Almyran treats that I wish to share with you.”

Thank the Goddess she isn’t turning around to face him. Hopefully she isn’t facing him because she is _aware_ that he is hard, but because she is too humiliated to look at him.

“I… I would like that very much,” she voices, sounding ridiculously levelled as if she didn’t just experience some weird sexual innuendo game with him. “But I first must dress in my House attire.”

“Of course! Do take your time!” _Yes please because I need to get off somewhere-_ “Shall we meet at the crates by the Greenhouse?”

“That is fine with me,” Edelgard answers, still refusing to turn to him. “Do not forget your bag of treats though; I fear that I would eat them without sharing any with you.”

That brings a smile to his face, even under this odd spell upon his body. Without word he quickly runs, making sure that his back is towards her in case she watches him leave (although completely silly as he looks), snatches the bag of sweets and dashes off as if escaping an impending war upon his land.

If anyone sees him like this… then he will never set foot in Fódlan ever again…

* * *

After cooling off at the stables with a bucket of cold water, and some handholding on his part, he heads off to the Greenhouse. His thoughts leave him feeling beyond humiliated, although to an outsider, such as a stationed guard, he looks suave as usual. Internally he contemplates about how people manage their crushes. It makes him think of all those who ever crushed on him, and he begins to pity them with how utterly clueless and stupid they must have felt and acted. He used to find it all amusing: how hyperbolically goofy they acted and felt around him. Now he feels as if karma has ran him over with a wagon pulled by oxen.

His mind conjures the image of Edelgard with her dilated pupils when he jested about if she wanted him to pleasure her. It played in his mind when he was at the stable getting off, wondering how much she yearned for his touch. That very thought of her wanting him like he from her is what-well, now he is getting a bit too distracted. The point is that he was startled that she seemed to yearn for him in such a way. So she feels lust towards him; she isn’t the first, or the last to have felt sexually attracted to him. She is human, like he, and of the age in which a person feels curious about their sexuality (regardless what the Church says). It’s no big deal, is what he is concluding: he is good looking, and she felt attraction to him. It’s completely understandable.

As for him regarding his crushing that is all that it is: a crush. People go through crushes all the time throughout their lives, particularly as teenagers. He knew of people in Almyra and amongst his grandfather’s courts that crushed many times throughout their life, only to find love with someone else years after their Academy days. To think he is immune to crushing just because he’s Claude von Reigan, the enigma amongst the students, is ludicrous. Sure it is pleasant these feelings, but they are short-lived. Most people do not find love until they are adults. Most nobles of his status barely fall for someone. Politics takes precedents, especially so with him being future king to Almyra and future sovereign to the Leicester Alliance. Edelgard is his first crush; hence, he is confused with the warmth that comes and is associated with the princess. It will fade over time.

That’s how life works.

He arrives at the pier, in which his emerald eyes instantly catch sight of Edelgard sitting atop a crate by the Greenhouse near the water. It’s just her and him, with the fisherman having taken leave to purchase more bait after the fishing tournament fiasco regarding Flayn’s overbearing brother. When she spots him she smiles that smile that seems only reserved for him, and he curses how it makes his heart flutter at something so trivial. Regardless he grins as he saunters over to her. A crate is by her, which she most likely placed for him to sit by her side, and he goes to it and sits with a leg over the other. He grins his pearly whites as he shakes the bag of sweets in front of her.

“Knowing that sweets can bribe you may give me a political advantage once I take my grandfather’s place,” he jests as he plops some lokum onto his opposite hand.

She snorts at his claim as she takes one red lokum to scrutinise it with wonder. She twists it in her gloved hand, as if there is some secret writing on one of the puffy walls. “Bribes are beneath me.”

Claude smirks amusedly at her, only for it to morph into a levelled smile as she plops the lokum into her mouth. He watches with interest as she chews on the jelly substance, paying close attention to her eyes and eyebrows to gauge her verdict. Lilac eyes widen along with their white eyelashes, magical in how they sparkle complimentarily together, and her eyebrows flick in tune. How delightful: it appears that she enjoys a favourite treat of his~!

He raises an eyebrow as he smiles, knowing that she enjoys it, but still eager to hear it from her: “Well?”

Once she swallowed it she allowed the taste to linger for some time. She quirks a small smile, indicating once more that she enjoyed it. “It was quite chewy, yet it had a delightful taste that wasn’t too sweet. Do you know what it is called?”

“From what the merchant told me they’re called lokum,” Claude lied, taking a piece for himself and savouring its chewy texture and taste. “I’ve had a few delivered, rather confiscated, from Almyran insurgents at Fódlan’s Throat.”

After passing her a different flavoured lokum he then retrieved a piece of helva. When she finished the treat she then took the helva and observed the pistachios, mentioning how the nuts rarely ever come to Adrestia. He explained that from written statements from soldiers at the border that they noticed Almyrans sometimes eat big blocks of helva with spoons. He also added that she best to not plop it in her mouth, for it is made out of sesame and should be eaten with few bites. She took his advice and nibbled lightly on the white block. Judging by how her eyebrows furrow lightly and how neutral her expression looks she isn’t a fan of helva. With an amused chuckle he gently pries the treat from her hand to have it for himself.

“Not your thing, huh?”

“It has… a unique taste,” Edelgard answered, which in her language equates to ‘I didn’t like it’. She smiles once again at him, and takes another lokum. “I thank you for allowing me to try these Almyran treats.”

Every time someone (well, it was only Edelgard) is grateful to try something Almyran his heart swells a crescendo, and he feels as if all his burdens have vanquished from existence. “Well you’re the only one who seems open to try… outside of me of course.”

At that she frowns, eyebrows furrowed despondently and eyes gleaming in disappointment, sullen by the reality of it. “That Almyran merchant… does he face discrimination within these walls?”

In all honesty Claude hasn’t seen the merchant face discrimination, simply because he never cared to observe. That merchant comes once every month after all. He takes a bite of his helva to contemplate what to discuss regarding discrimination against race, eyebrows knitted lightly and his smile turned into a pensive frown. Discrimination is something he has never chatted with anyone about, be that bias towards him personally, to another Almyran, or another ethnic group.

Admittedly it is a sour topic for him, considering his entire childhood was him trying to justify his existence. He is neither Almyran nor Fódlander… He is both at once, biracial, something that is scorned by two regions for simply existing. Naturally he has grown accustomed to being looked at funnily, spat at, and avoided at all cost, but that does not mean he is pleased about it. Oh it can be hard. Little things, like having to abandon his name to change it for something ‘suitable’, can leave him feeling, albeit sounding hyperbolic, lost. Some days it gets to him, others he smiles whimsically as if he doubled his treasure trove. Lashing out at others for their prejudice never solved anything, as he had learnt the hard way one day after being beaten to a pulp by Almyran children for defending his identity. Suppressing his emotions and true views is what has gotten him here, and will continue to benefit him in the long run.

Finishing his helva he then looks, really looks at Edelgard, and shrugs. “I presume he would. Fódlanders don’t take kindly to foreigners, especially those of tanned skin.”

Lilac eyes rake in his skin colour, and then a forlorn expression crosses her. “You must be sneered at everyday.”

Her sincerity and concern startles him. It flabbergasts him so much that he straightens up and nearly chokes on swallowing a lokum the wrong way. Edelgard, on the other hand, widens her eyebrows at why he would react so violently to what she perceived to be a simple remark. Unbeknownst to her this comment strikes Claude. He has had fellow Deer and cumbersome nobles point out that people mock him for his tanned complexion, but none have really… sympathised with him. His Deer probably feel for him, yet he hasn’t created meaningful relationships to have a levelled and serious discussion about it. The closest time to it was him trying to correct Hilda’s mentality of Almyrans being barbaric, yet he never discussed personally his skin tone outside of ‘lovely tan!’ courtesy of Hilda.

A rueful smile crosses him. His standard fake smile, made for the world to see. “You get used to it.”

White eyebrows knit fiercely at that claim, and she crosses her arms. “No one should ‘get used’ to discrimination based on something so silly as ethnicity or skin colour.”

Determination dances across her lilac eyes, an inferno that is ready to burst out from them any second. “People should be judged on their character and skills. Regardless of their colour, race, religion and birth, they should be free to be viewed as equals. Only by judging them based on merit can Fódlan ever hope to prosper and continue.”

Claude cocks an eyebrow, now curious about something: “And how would you try to achieve this ambition of yours? By any means necessary?”

“By any means necessary.”

There is something… dangerous in how she sounded. It sounded as if she truly means that she will try anything to achieve this goal, regardless of potential consequences. Clearly she cares not if the Church, her countrymen, or even those close to her, will abhor her. Having enemies doesn’t frighten her, and having to face the odds on her own doesn’t falter her moxie. Of course he himself will do what he can to achieve his dream, but he has his limits. A bit of violence will no doubt happen when he tries to form ties between Almyrans and Leicesterians, and then eventually with Fódlanders as a whole, but he would try to minimise it as best he can. He’s no pacifist, oh definitely not: one can’t afford to be as a political ruler. The amount of nobles he has poisoned within his court can build him a fortune. Regardless he tries to avoid as much bloodshed as he can. Screaming at each other and fighting one another isn’t going to achieve long-term change.

He laces his fingers together as he observes her. There is a part of him that wishes to voice that it sounds like Edelgard would resort to violence. But he knows better than to give away everything upon his sleeve. For now he will continue to gauge her words.

A playful game should work as a perfect diversion of topic. “So what do you think of me then, based on my character and merits alone?”

Edelgard presses a finger to her chin to rub contemplatively, as if she truly is wondering what to make of him. Of course he knows that she is playing around, yet he buys into it by smiling haughtily and winking flirtatiously at her.

“A nuisance, someone who seems to take delight in mocking others,” she begins bluntly, look so sharp and austere that anyone but Claude would think she isn’t joking. Maybe she is partially serious. “An enigma that puzzles me as to what I can make of him, making me cautious as to what you are hiding.”

Then a genuine and sincere smile crosses her face, crinkling her eyes with enough affection to warm anyone’s heart. “You are wise, much more so than you let out. Out of everyone I have met you are open to others, but not foolish enough to be too entrusting. You are… admittedly, humorous, although only sometimes.”

Claude scoffs playful at the last remark. He flicks his small side braid and smirks triumphantly, smug about how she perceives him, which earned him a light kick in the shin. She mutters how she now has inflated his ego and shakes her head in dismay, yet she can’t hide that amused smile threatening to reach her ears.

“So how do you perceive me, Claude?”

He puckers his lips and hums in deep thought, earning him an eye-roll from his fellow House leader. No doubt she will expect him to mock her and tease her height… but he is a boy of surprises~!

“A pig-headed stuck-up person, someone who is so stupidly stubborn that even a mule would be horrified,” he begins, honest, and smiles at how deadpan she looks. “Socially awkward, so much so that it is astonishing that you have friends!”

Now he smiles auspiciously at her, his eyes crinkled fondly and his emerald eyes gleaming sincerely towards her. “You are wise, able to look beyond supercilious norms to see people for themselves. You are strong, physically and mentally, which if I can be frank is truly admirable. Odd as it may sound but I truly enjoy having intelligent conversations with you, as a friend.”

He rolls his teeth on his bottom lip and lowers his head. Damn he’s grown uncharacteristically shy and quiet. It doesn’t help how Edelgard tilts her head out of puzzlement and droll amusement. She seems tempted to jest about his silent condition, judging by that smirk of pearly whites.

Some force causes him to look up, stare intently, and blurts out: “You are also quite beautiful.”

Edelgard shoots up her head. Pink paints her cheeks, ears and down to her neck, complimenting her wide lilac eyes that shimmered in awestruck. The sunset’s orange glow reflects her white hair, eyebrows and eyelashes, making her look ethereal and heavenly looking. The light even brings out the red of her uniform, shining like rubies that are alluring to all. She looks away, the pink still etched against her pallor skin, and snorts out of embarrassment.

“You are quite handsome yourself…” She utters for only him to hear, and that comment shoots straight to his heart.

Claude lets out a nervous chuckle and rubs the back of his head. They stay quiet, occasionally shooting glances at each other to see who would speak first. Soon they find themselves staring into their eyes. Once more Claude tries to remind himself that it is just a crush, something temporary that won’t develop into anything deeper and meaningful. Surely it will fade away. Yet why then is he feeling even more warmth and joy with her? Every time he spends with Edelgard it makes him happier and content, as if accepting that this is the person he wants to spend his life with. More and more he is tempted to kiss her, hold her hand, and make her laugh because his soul swells with bliss. Crushes make people delusional and jump to conclusions… yet he feels that this is what he wants, truly, that this is factual and not wishful thinking. He… really likes her.

Edelgard seemed to break out of some trance, and then she shot up from the crate. “It is getting late,” she begins solemnly: the Edelgard that all see. “Tomorrow we all depart to Gronder Fields for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. I need my rest if I am to lead the Eagles to victory.”

It is clear to Claude that she seemed rattled by what just… occurred between them. She clutched the sides of her arms as she took a few steps to leave. Claude pivots around the crate to watch her go. She then came to a halt and looked over her shoulder. He can’t see her mouth, only her lilac eyes, narrowed lightly, as if she is troubled or conflicted about something. Before he could ask if she wanted to say something she turned away and resumed her leave. Once she left he remained quiet, contemplating the way she responded. Again his thoughts replay what Lysithea told him. Perhaps he’s not the only one trying to pretend that it’s nothing but a crush. 

Perhaps… perhaps…


	10. Dashing Archer and Fairest Princess

**A/N: Finally a new title that is appropriate and better sounding! -Confetti-**

**Nannex: I went back and you are correct that I overly use eyes in descriptions. I shall make a final edit once I finish the story. Thank you for the constructive criticism; I will try my best to keep this in mind.**

* * *

The Monastery was abuzz with students packing their belongings and gear into their designated carriages that will take them to Gronder Fields for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. A few days ago Claude flew his wyvern to the fields to hide out and wait for his signal, and now he is here, eyeing Hilda amusedly as she ‘struggled’ to pull her luggage into a carriage. He, Hilda, Lorenz and Raphael are going to share their carriage for the ride. As expected Lorenz was not pleased with this, but he suppressed his ego and acts nonchalant about the matter. The other Deer: Marianne, Leonie and Ignatz, will use another carriage. Teach is in a carriage shared with the other professors. Flayne, of course, is with Seteth. There is no House mingling in the carriages, for it is a time to discuss strategies and tactics for the upcoming battle. Another reason is the potential scandal of a noble from one country mingling with another. The ludicrous image of a noble tearing their clothes to have sex with another during the trip made him snicker.

From the corner of his eye, as he carried some whetstones to sharpen his sword, he noticed the towering dark skinned retainer of Dimitri: Dedue. Quiet as a still tree the man smiled warmly as Annette apologised for dropping the stuff she had insisted on carrying to unburden the Duscuran. Such a sight brought a light smile to Claude, only for it to morph into a pensive frown. He has read of the accounts of the Tradegy of Duscur, on how Faerghusans conducted genocide because one supposedly killed their king. It was a gross over-reaction, especially when one person of a race or group does not represent the entirety of their people. Unfortunately some continue to vilify him and look at him as if he is a monster ready to strike. Even within his class, like the blond stuck-up Ingrid and the constantly angry Felix, see him for the stereotypical labels. He can relate to how it feels to be eyed at strangely, to have some either see you as an exotic thing or as some killer due to something as trivial as skin tone. He can’t help but wonder how he shall participate, knowing that nobles from across Faerghus will be there. They rarely chatted, for Dedue is a taciturn man, but he would like to check on him.

Approaching Claude smiled as if nothing is bothering him and with one hand he waves as he greets Dedue and Annette. The two turn to him, Annette calling excitedly back, and Dedue offering a polite nod. Stopping Claude tousled Annette’s hair, much to the pouts and yelps telling him to stop, and he then smiled at the retainer.

“Guess you’ll be the talk of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion amongst the Faerghusan nobles,” he began, trying to sound neutral yet friendly in tone, hoping to not come across as dotting. “Don’t let those crusty nobles get to your head.”

For the first time Claude saw emotion outside of neutrality: shock, as indicated by the widen eyebrows and blinking eyes. By him the ginger looks up with a solicitous look, seeming to have just realised that, that could be a problem.

“I am used to being sneered and talked about negatively, for I am a man of Duscur.”

Ha… he had said something similar to Edelgard.

It sounded oh so fine in his ears, but hearing it come out of someone else leaves a terrible pit within his gut. No one should ever be used to such derogatory claims. To accept it is to fit the labels set upon by perpetrators, thus never being able to prove them wrong. Instead you come to view yourself as how they project onto you. It isn’t right. This isn’t the sort of world anyone should live in. His expression must have turned stern, for Annette is eyeing him as if he transformed into a dragon before her.

“Doesn’t make it right, especially from people that hightailed on their horses to eliminate an entire race based on exaggerated anger,” Claude reminded solemnly, staring intently into Dedue’s eyes. “Don’t you ever sink yourself to how they perceive you.”

Damn it he said too much. He bites his lips out of fear that he came across too impassioned, as someone who has gone through such racism. No one is supposed to know that he is biracial. He’s supposed to be the master of hiding how he feels. Curses how can he recover from this blunder? Walking away would only heighten suspicions regarding his enigmatic origins. Changing the topic would raise more questions. Pretending that he needs to get going, even though he does, would just make the situation awkward. He’s checkmated…

“I agree!” Claude snapped from his brooding trance to look over at Annette. Dedue glanced down at the smallest student with wonder. Determination lights up her face as she straightens up with austere resolve. “You shouldn’t put yourself down just because some people are rudely ignorant!”

She squats on the spot due to the heavy equipment in hands, and Claude senses that she would have excitedly fisted the air if she could. “You’re a person! You’re Dedue Molinaro, a man who loves gardening, who bakes great stuff, and is always so patient when I make mistakes!”

That’s a save worth his praise.

Claude nearly lets out a relieved sigh, only to then smile fondly as Dedue brought the weight of the equipment to one arm to then pat Annette affectionately with his free hand. There is a smile that crinkles his cheeks, genuine, touched, and content, something rarer than gold from the retainer.

“I will keep that in mind, Annette,” Dedue remarks, truly honest, as he brings his hand away from the shoulder to carry the equipment. He then looks back at Claude and offers a respectful bow. “It pleases me to see that His Highness has two future rulers that share his sentiment.”

Oh? Does that mean Edelgard chatted with him-

Before he could think to inquire the retainer turned away and resumed the pace to his designated carriage, with Annette following after, after waving and bidding Claude farewell. Left alone the boy imagines how Edelgard must have approached Princey’s retainer, solemn and wise as usual, only to then blurt out some advice and blunt remarks about not dealing with prejudice. The image of her austere complexion, softened ever-so slightly to indicate that she does this out of care, makes him grin and shake his head. Quite the character Edelgard von Hresvelg is. She’s the best surprise to happen this entire year. She’s also the best person he has met in Fódlan. Maybe… maybe in his entire life.

* * *

“Ugh! How are we going to beat the Black Eagles when they have the advantage in numbers!?”

Claude smirked confidently from behind clasped hands as he regarded the heavily dismayed Hilda shoot her arms in the air and hit the ceiling of the carriage. By his side Lorenz sighed, agreeing with her sentiment but wishing to remain not too pessimistic of the Golden Deer’s odds. Opposite Claude the bulky Raphael just chuckles blithely, seemingly unaware of the low chances and remaining blissfully confident in their victory. The carriage bumped over a few rocks as it moved at a slow pace. Clopping hooves echoed outside and violated the cabin with its even claps, ensuring that silence is impossible. For some it is a nuisance, for Claude it makes him think in steps.

“Have faith, _deer_ Hilda,” Claude assures with a wink. “For I have some delightful schemes stored somewhere safe that will give us the edge.”

Lorenz turned to him, exasperated with his coyness. “And yet you do not wish to share these ‘schemes’ of yours with your own House. How do you expect your plans to work if we are all in the dark?”

“That is why you must have faith in me,” Claude reminds him, glancing over at the righteously sceptical man. “Yet in the meantime we still need to discuss amongst ourselves some battle positions and environmental advantages.”

“You mean like using the few trees in the field as cover?” Raphel quips with a head titled to the side, like a child believing they get the idea but are still uncertain.

Claude smiles in affirmation. “Correct.” He then crosses a leg over the other and leans in, glancing at everyone to inform them to pay attention. “Gronder Fields is quite open, with very few trees to serve as cover. There is a hill at the centre, where a ballista stays.”

“Which everyone and their soldier are going to try and attain first,” Hilda mentions with a flick of her finger. Her expression turns soured. “I know that the Blue Lions have Ingrid as a Pegasus knight, and the Black Eagles have Cyril as a wyvern rider, so they have the advantage of reaching the ballista first!”

“Which makes them easy targets to shoot down with archers and wind magic,” Claude interrupts whimsically with a toothy smile. “Alliance soldiers are always equipped with bows and arrows, considering that Almyrans that invade the border always use wyvern riders.”

“And you, Igntaz, and Leonie are skilled archers too!” Raphael points out with a pat on his leader’s shoulder and a proud smile.

“For us to reach the ballista I need you-” Claude pointed to Lorenz. “-and Leonie to ride on horseback to reach the ballista. Since only someone with archery skills can handle a ballista, Leonie will take it.”

“So you wish for me to lead the first assault?” Lorenz inquires, appearing to sparkle with glee at the thought.

Claude gave a serious nod, startling the purple haired man. Clearly he thought that he was joking. The tanned boy leaned back against the wall, his eyes glancing to the right to watch through the window to observe the other Deer in the opposite carriage.

“Marianne will board with Leonie to protect her and use her magic to strike some of the flying units,” Claude clarified, catching a glance of Leonie and Marianne. “We have Thyrsus with us, so Marianne can use the staff’s properties to strike from further distance the flyers and others.”

Before Claude could ask Lorenz if he brought the staff the pallor man waved his hand and repeated ‘yes’ to clarify that he hasn’t forgotten.

“Most battles started with the Black Eagles and Blue Lions clashing first,” Claude reminded with a triumphant smirk. “As they fight amongst themselves we pick them off one by one. I will lead the strike against the Black Eagles: Hilda, Raphael and Ignatz will fight with me. Lorenz will lead the strike against the Blue Lions with Leonie and Marianne.”

“We shall lure them into the bushes to strike them. We’ll use the environment to our advantage. Flyers can’t go in. Marianne can set the trees on fire. Raphael, you can knock some trees down with your gauntlets. Just use your imagination.”

“No shame~!” Hilda cheered with a grin. “That’s the masterful tactician for you!”

Claude winked at her. Lorenz rolled his eyes, crossed his arms and huffed as he leaned back. “I still believe you should tell us about your ‘surprises’.”

He ‘tsk, tsk’ and brings an arm around Lorenz, his award-winning grin widening at the man’s clear discomfort. “I can’t allow distractions to occur.”

“I sure hope nothing will distract you, Claude.” Hilda jests with a knowing look directed right at his soul.

Oh he knows that she’s referring to Edelgard. He gives her a ‘really?’ look. While he does have a crush on the princess he isn’t going to let her ruin his chances of winning. Nobody is going to ruin his ambitions, let alone, reluctant and potential, love. Fortunately the comment flies over Raphael and Lorenz’s heads. To go off topic he does find himself extremely thrilled at the rematch with Edelgard. She nearly bested him when they trained with swords, and now this will be a ‘serious’ battle with them not holding back. She knows him well enough to expect schemes, and he knows her well enough that she will have plans herself. Princey will be predictable as always: fight honourably, how pitiful; no fight will ever be honourable. But Edelgard… she will make this glorified battle fun. Who would have ever thought that the seemingly ‘arrogant’ princess of Adrestia would bring out hoy in him of all people? Life truly is unpredictable, and that’s what makes it fun.

* * *

The carriages make a stop for the night. Everyone sets up camp, and during this time Claude moves around to each of his Deer to discuss his plans. Marianne seemed reluctant to go with the suggestion, believing that she will fail them with her lack of good qualities. But Leonie shut her down with an arm around her shoulder, a confident beaming smile and blunt yet kind words of how amazing the taciturn girl is with magic. That received a blush from the noble, who then stammered that Leonie is an amazing archer and fighter too. A ghost-of-a-smile tugged Claude’s lips as he watched them. Perhaps some sparks are happening between those two. Perhaps he and Hilda will have to play match-maker with them.

Gathering his bow and arrows by a tree where all the Golden Deer equipment had been placed from docking the carriages he notices from the corner of his eye some distance away Edelgard and Hubert. Clad in her red arming doublet and black trousers the princess dodges her retainer as he launches some fireballs at her. Training even now, how very like her. No doubt she is trying to perfect her dodges from magic users, considering they can pierce her armour. Of course she hasn’t don the armour, for armour can only be worn at the battle. Having undressed her armour he knows that a weak point is the thighs and crotch. It is the only openly exposed part of the armour. With his rapier and another typical flat sword with him, doubled with his speed, he will have to strike her there. It will be risky, but it is possible.

He hasn’t had a chance to speak with her since their dining of Almyran sweets. Everyone has been busy packing, and there has been no mingling of classes. Well he can’t approach now, what with her retainer ready to gore him just by breathing around her. Still that won’t stop him from delighting in messing with her~! With an idea in mind he scourges the Golden Deer supply for paper (he’ll get new paper for Ignatz), a quill, string, and a jar of ink. Finding all he then proceeds to write something on the paper.

_Fairest Princess of Adrestia,_

_I see that you are training even now just before the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Though admirable, you are not giving the Golden Deer a chance to best you, and I humbly believe that, that is unfair. Please do go easy on us, for I am your favourite Lord-and one quite dashing and charming-and your dubbed Schemer. Be the aspiring and kind noble the world needs to see. _

_Kindest Regards,_

_Your Dashing Archer._

Done he then folds it, ties it to an arrow, and with quiver and bow fastened he climbs up the tree. On a branch that obscures him from sight, but gives him a glimpse of the princess and her snake-in-human-form friend, he notches the arrow. In a snap he fires it in front of Edelgard’s feet, grinding her training with Hubert to a halt. Before Hubert could think of searching the premise or calling out to all that her highness’ is in danger Edelgard silenced him and picked up the arrow. She unravels it and begins to read it. From the thickest leaves Claude watches with hunger and anticipation of that of a wolf stalking its prey.

Her expression of wonder morphs into an amused smile, and he believed he saw her snort, an eyebrow cocked at the message. Hubert opens his mouth to inquire, only for the princess to shake her head and utter, although not clear to Claude’s ears, that all is well. She then hands him the paper, and appears to instruct him to put it away in her private tent. As the retainer walks off she looks around the area for Claude, and the tanned boy snickers like someone playing hide and seek. Someone calls out to her, attracting her attention to the person running up to her: Caspar. Her smile has turned into the austere expression all see her as. Seems the boy wants to spar with her in front of the other Eagles at their shared tents. Unsurprising she complies and follows after the ecstatic boy. Once gone Claude climbs down the tree, feeling whimsical like an Almyran boy riding his wyvern for the first time, and carries the equipment to his private tent.

* * *

At daybreak when people fasten the carriages to continue the ride to Gronder Fields, Claude and Leonie fetch some apples for the horses. The two archers chat and boast about their archery skills, hoping to annoy others into believing that they are all talk and no bite. Marianne and Ignatz brushed the horses with some combs, and Raphael, Lorenz and Hilda handled bringing the luggage into their carriages. The two apple fetchers passed Lysithea and greeted her, in which the magical prodigy waved back with a smile. Cyril is assisting the smallest Eagle by carrying her stuff, and of course Claude being Claude called out how gentlemanly and lovely Cyril is for Lysithea. That flush across her cheeks and the puzzled yet flattered look on Cyril made him snicker and powerwalk away before she could fry him with her magic. 

Edelgard, ever nonchalant, walks towards him. Her mouth is a firm line, indicating that she isn’t here to chat-she simply is walking by him. As she passes him he grunts when he feels her shove something against his stomach. Recovering from the light blow he finds curled in his free hand a rock with some folded paper tied around it. Leonie turned to the sauntering princess to call out what her problem is, only for Claude to utter that its fine and a playful game. The ginger opened her mouth to rebuttal, only for it to clamp shut when he gave her a knowing smile. She shrugged, muttered something about ‘nobles being weird’ and continued ahead with her basket of apples. Claude opened the paper and read it. When he finished the last sentence he felt an amused grin crinkle his cheeks and reach his ears.

_To This Dubbed Dashing Archer of Mine,_

_Do not think I will grant you kindness simply because I am on friendly terms with you. Your House will be annihilated at this battle. Perhaps if you tell me of your schemes (do not deny that you have none), then perhaps I may go ever-so slightly easy on you. But you will not, thus I conceive that you shall be dealt with. _

_Your defeat is inevitable,_

_Princess of Adrestia._

He glanced over his shoulder to see Edelgard climb into her carriage. Neutral as always, acting as if she is incapable of having a game or jest. A tiny part of his heart swells at being dubbed ‘mine’ in the letter, even though he knows it was written jokingly. With grin intact he precedes towards his carriage, placing the letter into the pocket of his trousers, something that he will cherish even once he becomes the sovereign. He has very few keepsakes from friends in Almyra and Fódlan, so this is something he will keep to remind him of the wonderful enigma that is Edelgard von Hresvelg. Maybe he’s being ridiculous keeping this, but since when did he care how people perceive him?

* * *

On the second night, the last stop before Gronder Fields, where the moon illuminates the sky and the stars twinkle in greeting, Claude decides to head to the pond to make himself tea. It is ginger and lemon, a flavour that he likes in moderation, quite suitable for the chilly night. Having a cup of tea before going to sleep is a habit of his, which shan’t change because he travels outside the academy. Alone in the night clears his mind and prepares his soul for the day to follow. One of the guards told him that there is a crystal clear pond where one can drink, so making tea is perfect.

When he reaches the pond he is startled to see the sight of white hair and lilac ribbons. Sitting atop the rock with her back to him is Edelgard in her arming doublet and trousers. It would appear that she had not planned on going to sleep. Perhaps she had a nightmare. Haunting memories never give their user a break, regardless where they may be. It is most fortunate that he too is in his arming doublet, yellow in colour, and black trousers, for it would make for a surreal sight if he alone was clad in sleepwear. No doubt she had sought solitude, but he is here now with a tray of cups, tealeaves, a bag full of lokum, and some stones to make a fire to boil the water.

“Mind if I join you?”

Flinching at his reveal Edelgard pivots herself to face him. Under the illuminating moonlight she doesn’t appear to have bags under her eyes. So she is prolonging herself from sleep. She takes notice of his tray.

“I would like to be alone, unless you will share that tea you wish to make and that bag of Almyran treats,” Edelgard answers solemnly.

Claude chuckles at her dry ‘joke’ and smiles knowingly at her. He sits on a rock by her, and conducts the fire with some twigs while she scoops up some water from the pond. It takes some time, neither chatting as they observed the water, with Claude crushing the leaves and zests into two separate cups. Once done he then pours the boiling water into his guest’s cup and then his own. Edelgard utters her thanks and carefully sips her tea. A content sigh escapes her lips, and he then passes her the bag of treats to share lokum between them.

“I thought you would be getting your beauty sleep,” Claude jests through chewing his lokum.

Edelgard scoffs and looks over at him with a ‘seriously?’ expression. “Beauty is the last thing on my mind to worry about.”

He regards her fondly as she snacks on the lokum, and he hides a smile behind steam as he sips his tea. The two of them are acting so… domestically, as if this is a pleasant routine. The chill caresses their persons, the heat of the tea soothing as it is downed the throat, the crackling fire creating a pleasant sound, and the smell of flowers relaxes all. It is pleasant, just the two of them, with the moon and stars blessing them with their white light.

“Do you usually bask in the moonlight before catching sleep?” Claude inquires after consuming a lokum, his head towards her.

Edelgard hummed contently as she sipped her tea. Her eyes are towards the pond. “Whenever I can I try to go outside to feel the air against me,” she converses, a light smile etched on her face. The dancing flames adorn her face with a light that makes her look youthful. “I find it soothing.”

“Going outside to feel the air soothes me too,” Claude answers honestly and looks to the pond. He feels her gaze upon him as he inhales deeply. “The smell of flowers, the path illuminated by the moon and stars, just being amongst nature brings me content.”

In the water’s reflection he observes how Edelgard looks forward to copy his deep inhale, sighing at the pleasant sensation. Silence graces them, basking the two lords with the relaxing sensation of them sharing a calm and beautiful night together. It brings a genuine smile to his face as he sips his tea. They really have an unlikely friendship (or more? His hopeful side is pleading it to be the case), yet somehow they come together to form this wonderful bond that he, and he believes her, have never had with anyone else.

Thinking of their peculiar bond makes him remember something. “Oh Princess, I need to give you this.”

Fishing around his trousers’ pocket he takes out a folded paper to offer to her. She had been watching him with interest, and now her face turns deadpan as she takes the paper from him. Carefully she unfolds it and reads it over the fire. He had this message memorised, so he can easily see what brings her droll amusement in her shimmering eyes and suppressed snorts. 

_Fairest Princess of Adrestia,_

_Oh how you wound my heart! A man could suffer a heart attack with such biting and cutting words! Yet if I may disappoint you milady: I shan’t lose, for I am a man of many talents. It is with a heavy heart that I inform thee of your impending defeat. _

_Kindest Regards,_

_Your Dashing Archer._

Edelgard shakes her head as if disappointed, but that smile of pearly whites showcases her true colours: she is amused by his antics. She looks up from the letter, and he expects her to look austere, only to be surprised by how she stares at him with affection. His breath is clogged in his throat. She is mesmerising like this, and oh he feels warmth course through him and his brain desperately tries to engrain this beautiful look for him to always relive. 

“You are utterly ridiculous, Claude.”

He smirks and winks as he clinks his teacup with hers. “You love it, Princess.”

She laughs, neither confirming nor denying his claim, and he finds himself enamoured by her unrestrained laughter once again. It seems unbefitting to someone so stony-faced, but having gotten to know her more has allowed Claude to realise that no, it is perfect. Strangely enough it is contagious, for he finds himself chuckling with her. As he stares at her he can’t help but regard the two swinging lilac ribbons in her white hair. Till this day it puzzles him as to why she wears them. For someone so intent on being treated seriously, a person perceived as cold and uncaring by many, her wearing those ribbons seem counterproductive. Sure it highlights how adorable she truly is, but it always made him feel exasperated yet amused by those ribbons.

She catches him staring at her white hair, and for a split second he could have sworn he saw melancholic shame in her eyes. “Is there something in my hair?”

Claude points to the ribbons. “For someone so intent on being perceived solemnly, you wearing those ribbons seem… odd to say the least.”

Edelgard smiles a smile that seems to be reminiscing good times as she fingers through her hair to feel one of her ribbons. “You are correct that these ribbons clash with my image. I know that once I become emperor I will not have the luxury to wear them.” Her smile now turns rueful. “So I wear them for now, for they are a reminder of when my family would do up my hair.” 

Ah, no doubt one of her older sisters that she screams about at night used to don her hair. Of course he doesn’t reveal how much he knows about her, and instead nods in understanding. He can picture little Edelgard, tiny princess, plopped on a chair and grinning as an older sister is tying her hair with those ribbons. It then draws a personal memory of his regarding his side braid. His father used to do it for him, grinning wide and saying what a mighty and fierce child he looks. It took little Claude some time to realise that his father was exaggerating, for he was swatted aside by a wyvern’s tail when he tried to growl at her. Even after that disaster he still wore the braid with pride, showing to all that he is not different from another Almyran; that he should be considered one, while also embracing his Fódland heritage.

Back at the present he smiles at an idea. With his teacup set aside he hovers a hand over her ribbon. “May I?”

She seems perplexed, but nods to see where he is going with this. Carefully he undoes the ribbon, delighting in the silky feeling of her hair against his fingers, and takes it. He then proceeds to tie it as a bow in his side braid. Done he then beams at her, his braid swinging like a pendulum to demonstrate the lilac bow’s magnificence. Edelgard is taken aback, only for her to grin and eye the ribbon with impressed interest.

“Lilac is a good colour on you,” Edelgard remarks auspiciously and snorts at the boy gleaming. “Don’t let my compliment get to your head.”

Claude shrugged innocently at her, and then ushered her to feel the side braid for herself. She complied by leaning in to feel the braid against her fingertips. With her index finger she gives the tiny braid a nudge to have it swing back and forth. He doesn’t blame her mild fascination, for Fódlanders do not braid their hair in this fashion.

“Since you seem interested perhaps you’d allow me to braid your long strands in this fashion,” he blurts out without thinking.

“I doubt it would suit me like how it suits you,” Edelgard answers with a light smile. He makes a mock pout of shame, and she merely barks a snort at his exaggerated puppy look. “Now I shall have my ribbon back.” 

He nods and allows her to untie the bow. For someone who wields axes with ferocity her hands, even gloved, are tentative and gentle as she undoes the ribbon while being mindful of his braid. To think that this gentle side of hers is mostly directed at him brings a pleasant shiver down his spine. Once she undoes the ribbon she quickly places it back in her hair, even though it seems pointless, as she will have to go to sleep soon.

Speaking of sleep he notices that both their cup of tea are finished, and that there is no more lokum to snack on. Best to be off. Without a word he places everything onto the tray and stands up. She opens her mouth as if to say something, her look almost pleading. Hold on-she wants him to stay longer? His grin must be devilish and his eyes gleaming in triumphant understanding judging by how mortified Edelgard looks.

“Oh you want me to stay longer~!” Claude states with a tone so auspicious as if all his dreams have come true.

Edelgard scoffs in denial and furrows her brows. The moon shines a spotlight on her pink cheeks. “No, I just-”

His smugness is now tenfold. With the tray tucked under his arm he uses one hand to tap her nose. “Nah ah, there’s no denying it, Princess; you like me more than you let out~!” 

Edelgard turned away to snarl, no doubt suppressing the urge to get up and give him a piece of her mind. The instant she turned her eyes shoot up. “Lysithea?”

Wha-

Claude turns and lo and behold Lysithea, with her back to them, freeze on the spot. It looked like she had tried to tiptoe away from the two. Reluctantly she turns like a struggling old lady to them.

“Is there something you need?” Edelgard inquired in that dotting mother voice of hers.

“I was looking for you, but then I saw you and Claude having a moment away from everything so I didn’t want to interrupt your privacy,” Lysithea answered with an understanding smile.

At that comment Claude felt his face flush red. In the corner of his eye he noticed the princess flush equally as red as him.

Edelgard cleared her throat, and oh boy Claude knows that is the ultimate tell-tale sign for anyone that she is humiliated. He can tell that she is desperately trying to keep her voice even. “Claude had simply stumbled upon me, and decided to share his tea with me!”

Lysithea shakes her hand dismissively. “No I get it: the night is lovely, most people are sleeping, and you two wanted to be alone.”

Oh he knows her game. He is going to pay her back-

“Were you having nightmares?”

An uneasy silence settles between the two white haired girls. Even from this distance he sees the forlorn look on Lysithea, and the lip bite of shame. She scrunches her sleepwear like a child afraid to confess how bad their nightmare was. Claude may not know all the details, yet he is aware that these two have a lot more in common than anyone else does. Every time he sees the two interact he senses and sees an understanding shared between them. It would seem that they two have similar burdens, whatever they may be. He grows sombre in understanding, and shoots a small assuring smile to her.

“I was about to head off anyway,” Claude began and lifted his tray to demonstrate his point. “There is no hassle, really.”

Edelgard looks over at him and mouths a ‘thank you’ to him. She stands up and carefully moves over to Lysithea. From here Claude sees her thumb the smaller girl’s shoulder. “You may come to my private tent. No doubt you will sleep better with company.”

Without waiting for a response Claude walks away to leave the two to their private burdens. He wishes the two a good night and makes a joke how even with sleep the Black Eagles will not be able to defeat the Golden Deer. Their smiles bring an auspicious smile to him as he heads to his private tent.


	11. The Battle of the Eagle and Lion

**A/N: Holy... this has reached 3000 views. I... I never thought... for a rare-pair. Thank you all. Even to those who clicked to read and were disappointed, thank you for just trying this story out. Thank you again ;-;!**

**To everyone in the comments: yes angst will be coming (probably not next chapter but in chapter 13 onwards). Not much Edelclaude happens in this chapter, but in the next chapter oh yes indeed. I divided this into two chapters: the battle itself, and the aftermath. **

**'Basima' means 'smiling'. (Do correct me if I am wrong though).**

**'Oh my': You are correct that I have _greatly _lengthened this story because I had too many ideas and Claude is fun to write :).**

* * *

Upon arrival at Gronder Fields the House leaders unite with their designated soldiers given to them by their sovereign or family. Claude greets his soldiers clad in yellow with a salute of his fingers, smiling as the predominantly archer group greeted him with bows raised. Lorenz was given a battalion of cavaliers, mighty stallions that are the joy of the Glouster name; dare say the strongest lot of horses Claude has noticed across the field. Flayn is heavily armed to ensure that she can close in on the Deer and heal them when required. The future sovereign blessed the commoners of the Deer with battalions to their likening, a simple courtesy of Claude. The tanned boy doesn’t check upon his hidden wyvern, knowing that it would ruin the surprise. As his armour was fastened by some of his troops his eyes scanned the other Houses.

No surprising the Black Eagles had battalions made up of predominantly magic-based users. The ever-menacing retainer had his battalion of own foreboding magicians, each of them with steely or unreadable expressions. Dorothea too was given her own battalion, courtesy of Edelgard’s family, while Linhardt requested white-magic users to control and use to heal. Some do not appear to have their own squadrons: Cyril is on his own, most likely believing or dubbed not ready to control a group. But he sticks closely to Lysithea and her group, being the boy unknowingly developing feelings for the smallest member in the Academy.

The Blue Lions are mainly made up of cavaliers. Ingrid has a Pegasi team at her command, Ashe with some archers, courtesy of Dimitri’s house name, and so forth. Felix has no battalion, being the loner that strives to prove his strength. Strong as he may be that will lead to his downfall. Whilst menacing as the idea of a swarm of Pegasi swooping down to the battlefield is, Claude sneers when he regards his archers and Marianne with Thyrsus. Not that he wishes to underestimate Dimitri and his House: he is merely calculating his chances.

Claude gathers his Deer for one last meeting. Teach cannot participate, so they wish their students all the best and then joins the other professors to observe the match. Everyone is prepared for the job: Raphael fists his gauntlets to gauge their blows, Ignatz fastens the string of his bow, and Hilda gives her axe a few swings to relax her arms. With hands on his armoured hips he grins at his peers.

“We’re up against some tough opponents,” he begins, to the point, his smile still intact. “In order to best our enemies, we need to think and act strategically. Use the environment to your advantage, lure people away from their groups, and strike them when they least expect it.”

“Sometimes one has to wait for their opponent to go first. That is what me must do,” he continued, now pacing back and forth to regard his members. “Wait for the Black Eagles and Blue Lions to engage, then we move up. Lorenz is in charge of leading the group to acquire the ballista, and then the strike force against the Blue Lions. My group will hone on the Black Eagles.”

“What about your ‘secret plan’, Claude? Should you tell us now so we don’t unintentionally mess it up?” Igntaz inquires with blinking eyes.

Claude winks at him, and his smile slyly widens. “You’re just going to have to trust me and be prepared for anything.”

Although there are murmurs of uncertainty none voice their complaints. With that declared the group gave each other their best regards, with some like Leonie and Raphael cheering aloud, which startled some troops, and Claude saluted them as they split up. He heads towards the centre of the field to meet up with the two other House leaders as sign of unity. There the Archbishop stands in the middle, her smile motherly as always as she turns to regard each approaching leader. That smile is something Claude always considers off-putting: it is so deliciously sweet that it is clearly fake; yet it also reminds him of how he smiles towards others. The dour comparison fades as he smirks at how Edelgard’s armoured feet stomps echo across the now quiet field. They all meet at the centre before the Archbishop. She drones on about the importance of this battle and the rules. Claude pays no attention as he observes the two fellow leaders. Dimitri is dressed to ride a horse, and from what the tanned boy has observed he is quite the rider. Edelgard is a fortress knight, a usually slow unit, yet he has seen how she fights so effortlessly as if she isn’t wearing such heavy armour. Both will be quite the opponents.

Once the Archbishop finishes her lecture she calls forth unity of the leaders and their countries. Dimitri is the first to extend both his hands out to shake the future rulers, his smile wide and eyes crinkled auspiciously to them. Claude grins as he takes the prince’s hand, and then allows Edelgard to grasp his other. Ah, both of them have tight grips: they’re taking this battle quite seriously. Perfect-the last thing he wants is a boring and easy match.

“Your Houses best concede defeat,” Edelgard utters, grip tightening on both boys’ hands as she smiles smugly at them. “There is no way that the Black Eagles can lose.”

“Do not think so highly of your House, Edelgard,” Dimitri warns playfully, but his smile indicates that he is not bluffing and is confident in his House. “For you may be disappointed when your Eagles lose the battle.”

“Your squabbles reveal your inflated egos,” Claude jests with a chuckle. A smirk encompassed his face, cat-like in how gleeful he appears. “Crushing you two is going to be fun.”

With that settled they walked back to their designated side of the field. There Claude reunites with his soldiers, and instructs which group is to station where and with whom. One usually has archers at the back, but he is going to need them at his side to deal with the fliers as they round the ballista. Lorenz is in charge of the assault, but that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t be assisted. With people stationed properly Claude checks his equipment. Two scabbiers at his side: a standard Fódlanese sword on the right, and a rapier on his left. Rapiers are thin, which will allow him to slip it through the chinks in people’s armour. He checks the contents of his poison in his vial, which he will use to dip arrows in and fire. He can’t use poison on students _prior_ to the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, thus he isn’t cheating. Quiver fastened, plenty of arrows at his disposal, concoctions and a dagger attached to his hip, he is good to go. Glancing to his sides he notices that his Deer are also armed and ready. With a smile he appears in front of his soldiers to deliver his speech for all to hear. Nothing fancy, just a means to boost the opponents’ egos so that they underestimate his team. Finished he then allows a smile to adorn him.

Then the opposing Houses charged.

Claude waits for sometime as the Black Eagles and Blue Lions soldiers split off to target the opposing side and the Golden Deer. Once the two divisions dispersed Claude launched his soldiers into action and charged along with them. In the corner of his eye he sees Lorenz ride ahead with his battalions and Leonie with Marianne mounted behind following closely after. Across the skies Ingrid rides her white Pegasus with ease as she swoops at Black Eagles troops. She circles away when someone shoots a thoron bolt at her, and flies towards the ballista to protect it. Claude shouts at his archers to fire at her and her squadron of Pegasi. They unfasten their bows and fire their arrows effortlessly, creating a scene of pelting arrows towards the flyers and those beneath them. To many it is disappointing that Ingrid and a few of her Pegasi dodge the arrows, yet to Claude that was the plan. In a snap electricity fizzled across the blonde and her steed, earning a cry to echo across the field as she and the Pegasus plummeted to the earth. Looking over his shoulder Claude grins at Leonie cheering at Marianne, in which the blue haired girl remarks, most likely, how flabbergasted she is that she landed a hit.

Raphael throws some Black Eagles soldiers aside as if they weighed nothing. Even the armoured units were tackled by the towering blonde man, his whimsical laughter booming even amongst the din of clashing weapons and sizzling magic. Caspar honed in his attention towards Raphael and charged forward, all the while screaming like a banshee, gauntlets raised to deck the man. From the blonde’s side Ignatz warns him and fires an arrow at the green haired boy’s foot. Even if the arrow didn’t pierce the foot it caused Caspar to yelp and nearly topple from his loss of balance. Claude almost felt sorry for the poor unsuspecting Caspar when his face was hit with the flat face of Hilda’s axe. It knocked him to the ground, and he stood no chance getting up when Raphael floored him with his gauntlets. 

In front of the future sovereign Ferdinand gallops with Bernadetta mounted behind, their objective the ballista. After clearing a path with a few jabs of his sword Claude notices how Ashe is nearing the ballista by slipping through the crowds. Guess that’s the call to his scheme. With a haughty grin Claude orders his soldiers to keep raining arrows to anyone closing in at the hill, and then slips back. He dashes towards the nearest trees, yelping as arrows missed him from behind, and chuckles triumphantly when he ducks from an axe aimed at him from a Lion. Leonie shot at some sneaky assassins that hid nearby, earning a shout of thanks from her House leader. A Lion bearing a mighty axe charges at Claude, but he merely feigns to lose balance to get in close and pierce her gut with his rapier. She collapses on her knee and Claude silences her by stabbing the wound with a poison arrow. He taps her back and utters ‘sleep well’ and resumes his goal. Close to the area he then fastens his equipment and climbs up along a tree and once at the top he mounts a scaly majesty.

From the trees a mighty white wyvern breaks through the leaves and soars towards the sky. The albino then flies towards the ballista, fast as an arrow piercing through the air, camouflaging against the backdrop of clouds and silenced by the boisterous roar of conflict. From up here Claude inhales deeply, a boyish grin encompassing his face and his emerald eyes gleaming. Oh how long has it been since he rode a wyvern? An enthusiastic chirp from his albino wyvern widens his grin as he gives her a pat on the head. Up in the sky, free from prejudice, he speaks in Almyran: ‘how long it has been, Basima, since they’ve been together?’. When she nudges his palm he chuckles and then redirects his attention to the hill. Leonie has leapt off her horse, now being rode by Marianne, and dashes towards the ballista. Ferdinand with Bernadetta, and Ashe are honing in and ready to fight for it. Battalions are close by… he sees Dimitri on his stallion circling around the hill to fight off others… Petra sneakily strikes from the bushes with arrows. Time to make his move.

With a dive Basima launches her breath of fire.

Some screamed and pointed to the sky to warn their comrades. But it was too late for many, as the wyvern guided her breath around the hill to protect Leonie with the ballista and to close off anyone from taking it. From atop his wyvern Claude noticed Ferdinand and Bernadetta fall off the ginger’s startled horse; Petra rush out the bushes before they caught fire, and Dimitri pulling back. Basima showed no signs of faltering as she then shot fiery balls at Eagles magic users trying to bend the fire to make a path. As he circled around atop his wyvern he noticed Hilda pumping her axe up and cheering for him. With a salute he then gathers some arrows, dips them in his poison filled jar, and fires them. Mercedes is hit in the legs, halting her from attending to the needs of her Lions, thus eliminating the designated healer of the House. Sylvain, who had been blowing kisses to a few female spectators, the Lance of Ruin twitching impatiently to continue the fight, was shot off his horse, much to the droll amusement of Claude. During his spectacle some of his fellow Deer ambushed dumbstruck soldiers before they could process that they’re in a battle. Cheers from Alliance spectators brought the smuggest grin to Claude’s face.

His eyes then fall to white hair against golden armour: Edelgard. From his angle he sees her watch up with a look saying that she is ‘mildly’ impressed. He shoots her a wink that she cannot see and proceeds to ride Basima. Leonie fired off the ballista at the armoured units. She managed to knock but not defeat Dedue as he came to his highness’ side. But the stubborn retainer was heavily weakened when Marianne struck with the power of Thyrsus. Unfortunately she was distracted with her success, which allowed Felix to lunge at her and knock her off her horse. Claude was too far to assist her with his arrows, and Flayn was busy healing Raphael from within a thicket. The future sovereign then noticed someone on top of their own wyvern approaching him. On closer inspection Claude realised that it is Cyril. Good to know that whilst the boy has little to no feelings on Almyra he still wishes to respect the traditions by taming a wyvern. The boy notched an arrow and fired. But Claude allowed Basima to steer free to avoid the shot, in which he then prepped his own arrow and fired. It pierced through Cyril’s wyvern’s wing, and the boy yelped in alarm as his dragon slowly spiralled out of control down to meet the Eagles. He’s clearly inexperienced and not bonded with his wyvern. Claude shouted out his regards and some pointers for Cyril.

Diving again Claude once more notches a few poison tipped arrows to aim at his opponents. Lysithea has joined Petra’s quest to take down Dimitri and Dedue; Linhardt grimaces about blood as he heals some soldiers, and Hilda runs away to avoid Hubert stalking after her with dark magic dancing at his fingertips. In the woods Raphael manages to defeat a couple of swordsmen that got their swords stuck in the trees from swinging; Ignatz sniped a few Blue Lions soldiers from the treetops, and Hilda led Hubert, perhaps stupidly, into the woods. Unfortunately Annette has bested Flayn when she had gone to support Ignatz, meaning that the Deer lost their designated healer. Regardless they are pushing through: the Blue Lions are struggling and Dimitri seems to be nearing his end as he and Dedue fought against Petra, Lysithea and Lorenz. Claude aims his arrow at Linhardt to rid the Eagles of their designated healer.

Wind magic strikes his wyvern.

The force of the gale knocks Claude off his dragon. He shouts as he plummets towards the trees. Fortunately Basima awkwardly flies to him and uses her wing as a slide to guide him safely to the ground. When his feet touch the earth he turns to her and orders her to retreat. Reluctance dances across her pinks eyes, yet he keeps insisting as he unsheathes his sword and watches for trouble. With a disappointed huff she flies away, far up into the sky, to go tend to the plethora of scars she earned during her grand flight. Once gone Claude eyes Dorothea approaching him with a knowing smirk and electricity dancing in one hand. He cocks an eyebrow once she comes into range, curious as to why she looks so cocky. 

“Hey Claudie~!” Dorothea calls oh-so sweetly as she flicks her wrist and fires electricity at him. Claude rolls aside to dodge the strike. Her smile is deliciously haughty. “What’s going on between you and Edie?”

It had been only a matter of time until she would confront him about Edelgard. Claude simply grins at her as he charges with sword ready to tear flesh. “Political discussions, stuff that would bore you.”

She quickly unsheathes her own sword and manages to block in the nick of time. A mock pout crosses her. “Oh come now: I see how you two look at each other. You both are too damn proud to admit your feelings. Guess neither of you will make the first move.”

Dorothea giggles and tries to strike his gut with one hand that flickered with flames. He backs off and then, using the opening of her awkwardly holding the sword one handed, takes out his rapier and jabs her hip. She yelps and falls to her knee, the flames scorching the grass against her palm. Before she could lift her head he elbows the back of her neck and knocks her unconscious. He sighs in relief and places his rapier away. Sweat drools down his skin, the stench being nothing compared to his days roaming the desert soaked in prespiration, and his ears ring from the din of the battlefield. His arms ache from notching and firing his arrows, and his thighs are sore from having not ridden his wyvern in a year. Everywhere he looks there is something to behold: flames around the hill, ballista arrows impacting and cratering the earth, soldiers rushing at each other- a sea of conflict. Claude rushes close to a woody area untouched by flames and glances around for his next targets.

Stomping feet attract his attention. Turning to the source he allows a smirk of challenge to etch his messy face. Golden armour shines like a holy halo against the black clad soldiers. Fastened axes pop from behind the user’s back, and a mighty shield grazed from blows proudly demonstrates its scars. Lilac ribbons that would be perceived as comically out of place by many are unnoticed by how the user wields her silver axe. Steely eyes are solely on him: the target to be eliminated. He glances at his poison filled bottle and notices that he still has some. With his free hand he gauges how many arrows he has in his quiver. Not many. Regardless he is skilled with a sword, and it is just he and Edelgard. The woods behind him will be most beneficial.

Edelgard approached with her expression austere. Claude regards her carefully. Edelgard’s axe will get caught in trees whenever she swings her weapon. Although quick as she is in the armour he is much quicker. Judging by her sweaty face and dishevelled hair she is tired, and will only grow more so than he in the armour. He just needs to play her right.

“Hey Princess!” He greets with an auspicious smile. Quickly his expression morphs into caution as he stares at the ground beneath her feet. “Heads up! There’s a rat right by your Imperial feet!”

The solemn and seemingly cold princess transforms into a petrified girl as she leaps back from the imaginary rodent. “BAH! I-”, once realising his jest she sighs to ease herself.

A trenchant glare comes across her, a look that could terrify even Demonic Beasts. From here Claude sees her grip her hilt tighter to suppress her rage. He almost feels bad for using one of her traumas to rattle her to his advantage. 

“How dare you make a fool of me? You will not rile me up with such childish tactics,” she spits out venomously.

He continues to act coy, and winks at her: “Ah, so the sheer terror in your eyes was… something else entirely.” Oh okay-that feral snarl and grinding heels indicate that he is _really_ pushing it. “My mistake. Anyway it was only a joke.”

Now her expression is deadpanned, unimpressed. “You really hope to unsettle me with childish jokes? It won’t work.” She readies her axe and shield. “You must stand and fight!”

With that she charges.

Claude smirks and hightails into the woods. Through the bushes he finds an area of plentiful trees, and turns to meet Edelgard’s swing with his sword. The blow sends him skidding back against a tree, and he responds by sliding to the side to dodge another slice. When the axe hits the tree it gets stuck into the bark. Taking the advantage he aims to hit the flat side of his sword against her face. But she retracts quickly enough and lifts her shield to block his impact. Edelgard then parries him and tries to swing downwards as he staggers back. Claude yelps and leaps back, and then ducks and roll when she rotates herself to use her momentum to swing her axe. Once again her axe gets stuck, only this time Claude uses this time to place his sword away and climb up a tree nearby. Atop a branch he notches his arrow to aim at her thigh. When she unsheathes the axe and turns to him he fires. But she spreads her legs so the arrow lands between her feet. Regardless Claude grins down from his place atop the branch. There is no way she can climb up after him. Even strong and efficient her axe won’t cut down any tree in one hit. If she can set fire then the two will suffer. Checkmate~!

“Acting smug I see,” Edelgard comments as she observes his haughtily grin. A knowing smile crosses her face. “How foolish of you to think I am unprepared.”

With shield raised she then retracts her silver axe to then retrieve a sinister looking one. It is purple and pulsating as if alive, a single red eye at the flat face seemingly glaring right up at him. His snicker falls short upon recognizing it. Now Edelgard is the one to smirk as she slams the devil axe into the tree. Claude leaps to another tree just before the one he is one disintegrates into dust. Recovering he turns and fires an arrow, only for Edelgard to lower her shield to parry it, and countered by slamming the axe. Once more Claude leaps to another tree to avoid falling to his demise. From here he notices how Edelgard clenches her teeth and moves sluggishly, eyebrows furrowed as if in pain. The devil axe drains its user every time it lands a hit. It will eventually tire her out, and allow him to finish her off. But he is struggling to leap from tree to tree due to his armour burdening him. The prior tree branch nearly cracked under his boots. He’ll have to jump down to tackle her to the ground.

Like clockwork Edelgard repeats her motion of disintegrating the tree with her axe. Seeing that there was no opening Claude had to once more leap to another tree. But as he did Edelgard spun around and slammed the devil axe just as the tanned boy’s feet touched the branch. It was too late for him to jump. When the tree disintegrated he fell to the floor, the leaves cushioning the impact. Groaning he quickly gets to his feet and observes her place the abnormal axe away to bring out her silver one. He tries to take a concoction… only to realise the bottles broke upon impact. Although weakened by the magical weapon she charges and tries to strike before he could unsheathe his sword. He ducks as the axe swings above him, and quickly takes the dragger from his belt to jab it into her thigh.

Edelgard hisses through gritted teeth as her leg recoils. Blood stains and darkens the black material. Before he could think of digging it in further he is kicked in the chest by an armoured boot. A splutter booms from his lungs followed with some blood, and he lets out a breathless gasp when his back slams into a tree. Agonised moans sound from him as he shakily gets back on his feet. Glancing over his shoulder he sees that his quiver broke from impacting the tree, the arrows scattered like petals on the ground. With a sigh of disappointment he unsheathes his Fódlanese sword and adjusts his stance. Edelgard pulled the dagger out and threw it aside. From this distance he sees that the battle, the use of the devil axe, and her armour is tiring her out. Not that he is any better: he feels ready to collapse against the tree. He spits some blood, etiquette be damned, emerald burning with vehement determination. Lilac matches the intensity, ardently eager to end him.

She drops her shield and charges. Even limping she still has the momentum to shove him if he doesn’t parry the blow. Claude meets her axe with his sword. Sparks ignite from metal kissing metal. Both try to push the other with their strengths, the earth and grass parting beneath their heels to give them space. At this proximity, the gravity of intensity shared between the two as rivals, Claude is reminded of their sparring match. An auspicious grin adorns him, and even Edelgard allows one herself as she shares his reminiscing. They back away and slam their weapons again and again, a deadly dance, one evenly matched. Even with a sword that holds the advantage over the sword in speed, Claude’s strikes are always matched by Edelgard’s axe. The boisterous din of battle seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them, oblivious as to how their House is faring in the field. It’s strangely poetic, almost romantic.

Pushing up against her axe Claude knees her in the crotch where the wound is close by. Edelgard grunts but doesn’t buckle from it. So Claude then opts to head-butt her. Yet her height allows her to shrink back from his forehead, in which she then tilts her pauldron to slam his head. Claude awkwardly stumbled back to avoid the blow. Edelgard backs away too before he could try anything. He then tries to charge at her-

-only for dark magic tendrils to slam his side.

Claude shouted as the tendrils flung him into the ground. Even in armour he felt the magic burry into the chinks and shred his arm. As he turned on his back to try and get up he is straddled down. An axe is pressed under his jaw and his arms are lifted above his head to be pinned by a powerful grip. Looking up he is greeted by Edelgard, sweaty, dishevelled, and battered, traits none associate a princess with. He tries to knee her from under, but her armour keeps him anchored. From the corner of his eye he notices a shadowy figure chuckle triumphantly, dark magic willowing from his hand. You don’t have to have a good look to know that it is Hubert. Claude squirms around to try to break free, although futile as it is. It certainly doesn’t help that Edelgard presses the axe closer to his neck and tightens her vice grip on his wrists.

“Concede defeat,” she demands.

There has to be something he can do to throw her off. Think, think…

A seductive grin and glint in his eyes appear. He wiggles his eyebrows. “You know, Princess, this isn’t how I fantasised you pinning me dow-”, oh and now the axe is touching his neck.

“Concede defeat, Schemer.”

No way is he going to lose. There has to be something he can do to get Edelgard off him. But what can he do when Hubert is observing him, ready to zap some dark magic if he so happens breathes? Even if he escapes her Hubert will fire his magic and take him down. _If_ he escapes the two then he will be left vulnerable in the fields, with only his rapier and a bow without arrows. He is too weak and exhausted. Determined as he is he knows when he has lost. Well it was fun while it lasted. Besides he engaged in an excellent rematch with the princess. He watches her face closely. At this proximity he can admire the flames burning in her eyes and the strength present in her expression as she suppresses her pain. Although dirtied and dishevelled, bruised and battered, she has never been this beautiful until engaging battle. He can count that as a tiny victory on his behalf.

With a despondent sigh he lays down his head and mumbles, “I concede defeat.” 


	12. Deny the Pining, Only to Embrace it More

**A/N: Oh wow-this fic may likely reach 200 kudos! This is probably the fluffiest chapter I have written yet. It is 'the fluff before the angst storm'.**

**Anon: Thank you for correcting Basima with Basma. Henceforth Claude's wyvern will be referred to as Basma (smile). [Shall fix this in previous chapter sometime].**

* * *

Much to the astonishment of many spectators and participants the Golden Deer won the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. It was close with the Black Eagles, but in the end the Alliance won. Claude grinned triumphantly as he was dragged away to be treated, and offered his regards to his fellow Deer and soldiers. Some jeered and called the future sovereign’s tactics as foul play, yet their comments fell on the deaf ears of the Archbishop. Those injured are being treated in medical tents, whereas those mostly unharmed, recovered, and the organisers tidied up the field of broken weapons, scorched trees and grass, and so forth.

Within a tent Claude is left to the care of his royal healers. Divested of his armour so that he is left only in his trousers and boots a healer checks the slithering scars across his arm, courtesy of Hubert. The tanned boy hisses as alcohol seers through his arm, and has to bite down on a block of wood to suppress a scream. One healer swabs the scars across his torso, and another tends to his bruises on his back. As they apply their magic and wrap him with gauze he ponders about Edelgard’s punctured thigh. No doubt her healers will have to stich the wound. Another scar to add to the morbid collection of scars; he has only seen a sample on her arms and upper legs. At least the scar he gave her wasn’t out of hostile intentions… although darkly humorous and asinine the thought is. Hopefully Hubert will not slit his throat when he goes to sleep. With how trenchant his glare was when he conceded defeat in regards to his seductive jape, it is most likely that the man will try to assassinate him.

Once he is treated and dressed in his academy attire he exits his tent to check up on his Deer. The moment he steps out of his tent Leonie, Caspar, Annette, and a few mixed groups of soldiers await him. Their eyes sparkle with ardent fascination, all morphed into a group of whimsical children, eager to retrieve their presents. He splutters at the unexpected attention of nearing people.

“Can we see your wyvern, Claude? Can we?” Annette inquires with sparkling eyes and hands cupped as if to pray to the Goddess to deliver her wish.

“Are we allowed to pat it!?” Caspar chirped with fists bumping into the air.

Claude raised his arms and pushed at the air to gesture to them to all back off to give him space. He chuckled and smiled at the curious crowd. “Alright, alright, I’ll go get Basma. Do treat her with respect.”

With a whistle he attracts the mighty white wyvern. People point to the dragon flying through the air, some murmuring with awe and uttering the unusual snow-white colour. Claude grins haughtily at the attention towards his albino friend as she flaps down to come to his side. Basma touches down and grumbles amusedly as many soldiers back away from her, as if she is the first dragon they have ever seen in their lives. Her grin, sharp teeth that could tear through flesh so insultingly easy, matches Claude’s smugness at the attention she is receiving. He makes a spectacle by hyping up Basma, telling stories of how she has done him wonders by saving his life and being a blight to those that dare challenge the Alliance. Passer-by halt to admire the show Claude puts as he makes exaggerated gestures with his hands and faux gasps when he tells death-defying tales. Basma joins in on the extravaganza by snapping her mighty teeth at soldiers to earn gasps of terror, and rearing up to spread her pink wings.

Once done with the tales Claude allows those that dare to approach and pat his wyvern. Annette, Caspar, and Leonie are the first to approach and rub her under scales, earning pleased coos from the menacing albino. Lysithea, who was passing by, couldn’t help but rush, push through the crowds, and rub Basma’s head with stars sparkling in her eyes. When Leonie notices Marianne escorting a horse the ginger goes to her, gently takes her hand and brings her to engage with Basma. Like magic, as to be expected from the usually dour looking girl that attracts all animals, Basma takes an instant likening to her. Basma, being the sneaky and perceptive wyvern she is, uses her tail to tap Marianne so she falls against Leonie’s chest. Pink blushes etch across their faces and they apologise profusely when they back away. Basma makes a series of chirping intervals that Claude knows is her equivalent of laughter. 

Later in the day, when the sun kisses the horizon and casts it amber glow across the fields, where the spectators have left, and when the Houses spend their limited time reflecting on today, Claude goes to Basma. Near a tree, far from any tents due to fears of her accidently setting them on fire, she grins enthusiastically at the meal he teases with a waggle of his hand. Saliva drools down from her gaping hungered jaw, earning a genuine laugh from Claude. She always was a lover of beef, and he was sure to receive only the finest cuts for a fine lady such as herself. Her dietary needs could even compete with Raphael’s own!

“You were amazing today… although that’s always a given,” Claude praises in Fódlanese, in case anyone happens to eavesdrop. He flicks his wrist to showcase to Basma that he will throw the beef at her. “I owe you, Basma.”

He chucks the beef and in a snap the meat is encompassed in the wyvern’s mouth. She chews loudly on her meal, her pink eyes wide with glee at the succulent treat and a delighted snort echoes from her when she consumes it.

Claude places his hands on his hips, cocks his eyebrow, and lets out a coy smile. “I take it that it was to your satisfaction.”

Basma grumbles in affirmation and then nudges her forehead against his chest, earning a boom of laughter to erupt from the tanned boy.

“Quite the surprise you gave everyone.”

Recognising that voice Claude massages Basma’s head and looks over to see the familiar figure of white hair and lilac eyes approach him. It is incredible that she isn’t limping from the punctured wound in her thigh. That is the Princess for him: someone full of unexpected, yet wonderful, surprises. From here he doesn’t see nor detect animosity from the future emperor: the stab was nothing personal. Clad in her House leader attire Edelgard lets out a smile towards him as she comes to his side, her attention shifting between his face and Basma. The wyvern turns from her comfortable place on Claude’s chest to carefully scrutinise Edelgard. The pallor girl isn’t intimidated in the slightest by the cocking head and display of teeth.

Claude grins at the princess. “I’m delighted that you find her amazing,” he remarks and gives a scratch under Basma’s chin.

Edelgard hovered a hand over the wyvern’s snout, and glances at Claude for permission. He lifts his hand as a ‘be my guest’, and Edelgard looks back and searches for the wyvern’s eyes to seek her approval. Basma snorts against her gloved hand, and gives it a nudge to indicate that she is blessed to touch her. Edelgard smooths her hands across Basma’s head, earning delighted chirps and grunts from the wyvern that eases into her touch. Claude observes how Edelgard smiles, pearly whites shining in the amber glow, cheeks creased in genuine joy as she lets out a dry laugh when Basma presses her to keep patting. She looks quite youthful, a girl not a future emperor, and Claude can’t help but stare fondly at her.

“Caspar told me her name. It is not Fódlanese.”

Seems the boy didn’t pay attention to his story telling of Basma’s ‘origin’. Regardless it gives him all the more reason to talk with the princess. Claude lets a ghost-of-a-smile when Basma snorted and tilted her chin with pride.

“Basma. In Almyran it means ‘smile’. A couple Alliance troops captured her and offered to her as a gift to the Reigan family,” Claude explained and gave Basma a look saying ‘play along’.

“What a gift she is indeed,” Edelgard utters and carefully traces her thumbs against Basma’s antlers.

Being a curious dragon Basma must have picked up on the faded scars upon Edelgard’s hand, for she was sniffing them and trying to yank one glove off with her scaly lips. Edelgard must have given Basma a look, for the wyvern snorts in dismay and stops pulling. Fortunately, much to Claude’s relief, the princess didn’t storm off or scold Basma. Instead the princess let out an amused sigh and scratched Basma under her chin.

Not helping himself Claude rests his elbow upon Edelgard’s shoulder, halting and attracting her attention, and grins his award-winning grin at her. “You only saw a fraction of my skills wielding a wyvern.”

Her expression is of droll amusement. Taking that look as a challenge Claude saunters to Basma’s side. Even without a saddle he can still showcase wonders. The wyvern lowers her back to allow him to fling himself over her. Edelgard watches him carefully like the eagle that she is associated with. Straddled Claude shoots Edelgard a wink. Carefully he then gets on his knees, then on one foot, maintaining balance, until he stands upright on Basma. He does a few poses: notching an arrow, saluting Edelgard, and hand on heart pretending to sing. Claude then orders Basma to stand upright on her legs so that he can stand taller. She abides, lifting her great underbelly off the ground to balance her weight on her hinds. He then does some flexing arms poses akin to Raphael, wincing a little due to his patched-up arm, and struts up to stand on Basma’s shoulder blades. Looking over at Edelgard he sees the princess giggling at his silly antics. Claude furrows his brows and pouts his lips like some snobbish noble and flicks his side braid as he turns away from her. Her giggles ring like bell chimes, soothing his soul, sounds that no mortal but he is blessed to hear, a beautiful taboo that makes him feel special.

As he extends his leg he miscalculates his footing and slips. He yelps as he feels himself falling back, trying desperately to swing his arms forward to maintain balance. But it is futile, and he yells as he falls back.

“Claude-!”

With closed eyes he is ready to humiliate himself by hitting the floor. Yet his momentum is interrupted… and the grass doesn’t embrace him. Something strong registers against his back and under his legs. His back feels arched as if… carried? Opening his eyes he is greeted to Edelgard’s face hovering concernedly over his. His eyes widen exponentially along with his eyebrows, and he gapes like a fish out of water at her. At this proximity he can count the lines of her irises, the number of white eyelashes, and see her ever-so slightly agape mouth. It quickly dawns on him that she is carrying him, having stepped in to halt his fall. Her hands hold him tightly to her person, for dear life, as if letting him go will result in his death. He can feel heat register on his side from being pressed against her torso. Some strands of her silvery-white hair fall against his neck and cheek, a touch that he only fleetingly felt when he ran his hand through her hair.

He is utterly star struck, staring at her face like she is the Goddess manifested, emerald gleaming in the sunset’s glow at her. She looks divine in this glow, hair looking like sunlight reflection on dancing water; her eyes that seem to burn with fire igniting in an inferno, and her pallor skin putting the finest marble to shame. At this proximity he feels as if he is seeing every aspect of her: wisdom, strength, courage, and a peculiar sincerity to her. He continues to stare, wanting to memorise every minute detail in how she looks. Delightful warm tingles course through him due to her arms holding him up. He feels safe in her strong arms. Only the sound of his beating heart rings in his ears, a massaging sensation against his chest. His cheeks turn red and it feels lovely upon him. Oh how he is swooning.

Edelgard smiles amusedly at him. “That is what you get for showing off.”

Once more due to Edelgard the gold-tongue boy is left speechless. The temptation to cup her cheek is almost too much. She gently lowers him to his feet and he still remains dazed by what occurred. Edelgard winces a bit, her thigh no doubt giving her grief. 

“Hubert will not be pleased that my wound had opened up,” she remarks dryly, yet he doesn’t detect frustration in her tone. She turns and walks away. “See you later, Claude.”

Not a word leaves him. A series of snorting laughter breaks his trance. He had completely forgotten about his dragon. He looks over his shoulder to notice a devilish grin on Basma’s face. It is an expression, whilst on a wyvern, that he is now all too familiar with. He groans in utter dismay and glares at her.

“Oh great; not you too.”

Basma huffs to confirm that she indeed believes that he is in love. Claude utters ‘bah’, waves his hand dismissively at her, and turns away. Her laughter rings loud for the world to hear, and his cheeks ignite red once again as he crosses his arms and looks down grumbling in humiliation.

Oh…

Claude von Reigan, you are hopeless.

* * *

The trip back to Garreg Mach gave Claude ample time to talk with his Deer regarding which House should be made to clean for a month. It was extremely amusing how some members from across the Houses tried to buy his and the Deer’s approval to spare them. Felix threatened Claude, in which the archer shrugged innocently; Linhardt spoke how he lacks the energy to engage in such activities; Annette prayed to him to spare her House, and so forth.

“Claudie, you can’t choose the Black Eagles-you wouldn’t want to make your beloved Edie work.” Dorothea, being the sneaky girl that she is, had spoken to him when he had been prepping the carriage. “On second thought you would! It will make Edie lift heavy equipment and give you the opportunity to see her muscles at work for a month. How cheeky of you~!”

Then there were incidents like that, in which he would act as if they are exaggerating and continue on his merry way. Much to Claude’s utter delight the Deer he spoke with agreed that the Black Eagles should be made to do the work for a month. He and Hilda managed to swap with Ignatz to join Marianne and Leonie in the carriage to gather their views… and maybe even set them up~! Hilda made some off-handed remarks about how Marianne and Leonie are bonding quite well, and Claude asked innocently if the two would meet again after graduating. It relieves the House leader to see someone else other than himself blush with how Marianne’s cheeks taint pink.

Upon arrival at Garreg Mach the three Houses come together in the Dining Hall to celebrate a grand feast. Of course the Deer are expected to have the mightiest proportions of meal, for they are the winners. The hall is packed and boisterous with the students nattering amongst each other. Even those that rarely socialise manage to gather around and engage in conversation. A couple gloated, some chortled at antics, and others complimented each other on their skills and techniques at the battle. That is what Claude had observed before entering the kitchen, with the princess of Adrestia tagging along with him.

At the fields Edelgard offered to assist Claude in cooking. Dimitri had volunteered to join them too, but Edelgard turned him down bluntly when she brought up his freakish strength. The tanned boy regards the contents on the table and reads the recipe by his chopping board. As a child he always enjoyed cooking: the fascination of what mixes with what, the use of strange tools, and the final product. Out of all the Deer he volunteers the most to cook; no one complains, for the way they gobble down his food. Sometimes he cooked with other House members, such as Ashe and Bernadetta (when she didn’t freak out). Come to think of it, he hasn’t seen Edelgard ever try cooking for the Dining Hall. 

Looking over he lets out a startled yelp. Lo and behold Edelgard brings an axe and lifts it to try and… presumably cut the carrot. Without haste he rushes up to her.

“Whoa, whoa there Princess!” Fortunately she halts her axe mid cut and turns to him. “You weren’t _seriously_ thinking about using an axe for cooking.”

She tilts her head to the side and oh Goddess she had seriously considered using it. “I thought it would make the process quicker and easier.”

Claude could not help but rear his head and chortle. Wheezes broke through his guffaws and even tears started to form in his eyes.

“Seems you are a bit pampered!” He remarks as he wipes a tear aside and looks at her humiliated pink stained cheeks.

Grumbling she places the axe away and looks at her chopping board with such puzzlement that it is absolutely clear that she doesn’t know where or how to begin. With a smile Claude approaches behind her and slowly brings his arms around her so that he has his hands over hers. When she doesn’t pull away he places his chin atop her scalp to look over the board. For once she doesn’t elbow him away, knowing that he is only doing this to have a better look. Gently he takes one hand and guides it to clutch the knife, and then pries the other to grasp the carrot in a way that won’t get her fingers chopped.

“You hold the carrot like this so that there is no way you can chop or harm your fingers,” he instructs as his eyes watches her movement. “Then gently you cut in intervals the pieces of the vegetable.”

Slowly he pushes down her hand to cut the carrot, lift it, cut again, and rinse and repeat. When done the two take another carrot and he allows Edelgard to try herself by taking his hands off hers. She does, slower than he did, and she cuts a few uneven pieces along the way, but she is getting the hang of it. Although he can’t get a look at her face he senses that she is delighted.

“I am doing this,” she utters, her tone levelled in enthusiasm, yet he knows that she is proud.

An auspicious smile crosses Claude. He closes his eyes serenely, wraps his arms around her waist and hugs her. “That’s my girl.”

Oh… oh wait that wasn’t mean to come out as affectionate-

Eyes opening wide as if water was flung at him he finds his hands glued around her stomach. The chopping had stopped simultaneously when she realised how he referred to her. Edelgard stood stock still as if she was petrified by his touch. They are hyper aware of how this looks: Claude hugging her from behind with chin on her scalp, having referred to her as if she is his lover. Internally Claude contemplates in break-neck speed as to what should he do. Does he laugh it off? Back away? Pretend that this is a game? Apologise for how he worded himself wrongly? What to do, what to do, _what to do-_

The sound of a throat being clear breaks his panic-induced trance, followed by Edelgard shuffling out of his gentle hold. Looking to her he sees her fetching some bowl and other utensils, her back constantly facing him. Clearly she is just as rattled, if not more so, than he. 

“We should make some desserts for the feast,” she orders; tone even, although there is a trace of tense nature to it. With back still to him she points to something. “Could you pass me the flour atop the cabinet?”

Breaking out of his spiral of bemused thoughts he looks over and sees the bag of flour. He heads on over to it and takes it with ease, and then goes over to the clueless cook that is Edelgard. As he thinks how she asked him to fetch it due to her small height a devious smirk crosses his face. When he attracts her attention his face turns neutral. Edelgard reaches for the flour… only for him to then stretch up his arm and dangle it above her.

She scoffs and is deadpanned. “Really? You mock my height even as we work together?” 

Claude hums in affirmation and wiggles the bag to goad her to try and get it. A trenchant glare morphs as she gets on her toes and tries to grab the teasing flour bag. Now Claude showcases his devilish grin as she grunts while trying to reach it.

“I will punch you in the gut…” Edelgard warns venomously with one arm pulled back to deliver the blow.

When Claude tries to pull back he looses his grip on the flour bag… which results in it falling and spilling white powder atop Edelgard. The princess splutters as the flour decorates her entire person and tickles her nose. Claude keels over and guffaws at the top his lungs at the sight of a flour-drenched, sneezing Edelgard. Tears sting his eyes and he goes into hysterics when he thinks how he is bent over laughing not from the princess punching him (which she did not), but because of her own fault.

Something gooey pours over his head. Coughing and wincing as the substance slides down his face he then shivers at how cold it feels. When the substance dropped down he recognised it as egg yolk. Flabbergasted he stands up straight and gawks at Edelgard. The princess, with a bowl in hand, huffs snootily at him, proud of what she has accomplished. Emerald twinkle mischievously as he notices the other ingredients. Well he certainly isn’t going to let her win this round. With a feral grin he goes for the tomatoes by his side and throws them at Edelgard. The pallor girl dodges a few, allows a giggle to escape her, and goes for a fish and chucks it. Ducking Claude chortles maniacally as he restocks his tomato stash and moves behind the table as cover. Looking over he has to back off as Edelgard throws some strawberries at his face. Standing up he takes the risk and charges with tomatoes flinging at her. She too charges, soldiering through the torrential fire of tomatoes, and chucks the strawberries at him. The two come into contact, in an odd embrace where they continuously rain their weaponry on each other’s backs. Alas they have run out of ammo.

Then the two start giggling.

Their giggles turn into chortles and then into laughter at their uncharacteristic antics. A couple snorts break through their hysterics. Without thought they embrace each other. The food and mess diseasing their clothes, hair, and skin be damned with how weirdly pleasant this was. As their laughter dies down Claude finds himself engulfed by Edelgard’s warmth. Her hug is awkward, showcasing how unused she is to displaying physical affection, but so genuine nonetheless. He feels her chest slowly dying its heaving from her ceasing chuckles. She smells of lavender (and flour and tomatoes). He can’t recall the last time feeling so relaxed in a hug. Perhaps not since his father or mother… yet that doesn’t seem to do this embrace justice. It feels like he and Edelgard fit together, slotted perfectly. It feels… right.

Edelgard pulls away as if doesn’t recognise him. It is fascinating how he misses her warmth already. Conflict dances across her powdered face. For a moment he wonders if it is his fault for pushing so many boundaries with her. Yet the way her eyebrows knit and soften, and repeat, how she glances at him, it dawns on him that, that isn’t the case. His eyebrows shoot up at a thought. He thinks back to sharing the Almyran sweets for the first time, and how rattled she was and how desperate yet unsure she was when leaving him. He contemplates about Lysithea and Hilda’s words once again, about how maybe his crush isn’t unrequited. He recalls how he and Edelgard are similar in how duty-bound they are, how they do not have the luxury to be who they want to be nor act as typical teenagers of different backgrounds. All this culmination of thoughts hits him.

Could it be that she is denying herself falling for him- 

Someone shouts, attracting the two lords’ attention. The head cook clasps the side of his face and lets out a whine of dismay, mortified by what he is seeing. Claude regards his dirty form and tries to act innocent with the muttering broken cook. From the corner of his eye he sees Edelgard point to him.

“He started it.”

* * *

Another night another nightmare.

By Edelgard’s door, where her screams and begs pierce through the wood, Claude stands in his sleepwear with a pensive knit of his brows. For the past couple of months he’s been eavesdropping at her door. All that has been revealed to him were names of those that suffer, pleas of mercy, sobs of apologies, and breaking down in unspeakable anguish. This information won’t be of much help when he rises to power and tries to blackmail her to be an ally. What is there that he can use to blackmail her with? At this stage, after bonding more with her and seeing that this information cannot be used to his advantage, he feels loathing abhorrence with himself. He bites his bottom lips in trepidation. Someone needs to help her sleep. Waking her up and running off to his room will not assist her in the long run. She can’t suffer like this every night.

With a sigh he musters the courage and bangs his fist against the door.

Silence greets him. Instead of the usual routine he stands in front of the door. When she doesn’t open it he knocks again to indicate that he is still here. Not a single sound. He waits and waits, knowing that the princess is debating about opening up to him. Finally the door opens and the sight of Edelgard bestows him. His expression turns sympathetic and remorseful. Black bags lie under her bloodshot eyes; she has been crying, but had furiously wiped her tears aside. Her white hair, always pristine and well brushed, is dishevelled like a cat having gotten into a fight. Clad in her white sleepwear he sees through the undone strings of her collar a glimpse of a hideous precise scar run diagonally up to her collarbones. What an odd scar: it is too précised, as if surgical.

Edelgard pinches the bridge of her nose and blearily blinks to adjust herself. “Claude… Have you been returning from the library?” 

“Yes, but alas there was nothing of interest,” Claude lies, impressed by how completely composed the princess sounds. None would have expected that she was thrashing and screaming in bed. “I heard you screaming and wanted to check on you.”

She watches him carefully and frowns pensively. As she continues to scrutinise him in the dimly lit room of hers, her eyes shoot up at a realisation. “You are the one that keeps knocking at my door at night…”

No point in lying: “Yes,” he confirms and waits for her to lash out or criticise him for snooping. She simply furrows her eyebrows. He sighs, not used to being genuine and comforting. He rubs the back of his head. “I… I thought that maybe coming to you might help with your... insomnia.”

The once scrutinising look of hers shifted into astonishment regarding his sincere solicitous concern. Her hand grasps the doorframe tightly. She bites her lips, uncomfortable beyond words, and she looks away with furrowed brows in deep concentration. An internal battle is waging in her mind, Claude can see, the pallor girl tapping her fingers against the wood to hurry her decision. He remains uncharacteristically quiet, giving her the chance to take her time. Really he doesn’t know what he’ll accomplish. She won’t open up about her nightmares. Maybe just having his company will be enough. Sometimes you just need someone there to simply be there for you. If she tells him to leave… it is very much like the heir to suppress her emotions.

Edelgard pivots herself to usher him into her dorm. He smiles in gratitude and walks in. She closes the door behind him. Inside his eyes fall to a peculiar sight. Whilst he has been in Edelgard’s room before when teaching her Almyran, she has always tidied it. But lo and behold on her bed there is a white bear stuffy with two matching lilac ribbons tied in its ears.

“Is that your bear stuffy?”

“No!” Edelgard denied too quickly. That embarrassed pink blush answered his suspicions (although really he had none).

He can’t help but give her a ‘really?’ look with a cocked eyebrow. “The white bear stuffy… with matching lilac ribbons… is definitely not yours.”

Malicious eyes flash in the dim candlelight. “I will fetch Hubert.”

Claude raises his hands and utters ‘alright, alright’ and then sits down on her bed. He pats the side to invite her to join. Cautiously she approaches and sits by him, her gaze never leaving him. He sits in silence, once more pondering how he can comfort someone so secretive and uncomfortable with touch.

Edelgard is the first to break the silence: “What have you gathered from my nightmares?”

There is a dangerous look in her gaze: it tells him not to play dumb. Even if she hasn’t said it, he knows that she also refers to how he would use this information to his benefit. She isn’t stupid-she knows that he could have awoken her anytime, but had eavesdropped. Honestly it is a miracle that she hasn’t confronted him about this in the confines of her room. He stares at her with solemn emerald eyes; for once he wants to be open with her.

“That you and some people-siblings-have suffered… and that you’re the only one to tell the tale,” he begins carefully, not wishing to come across blunt or insincere.

She flinches and bites down her lips to supress saying anything. Her hands, crossed over her chest, dig nails against her long sleeves. From this proximity he hears her breath hitch. Regardless of how vehemently uncomfortable she is she still watches him closely.

He sagged his shoulders and gave a shrug. “Honestly what can I use this information for? Tell the world that ‘hey, the future emperor had siblings and has suffered a lot’?” He hopes she doesn’t think he’s making a jest. She stares at him evenly: no, she knows he’s not mocking her. “Even if I did, _even if I did_, my word is nothing compared to the future emperor of Adrestia.” 

Edelgard seemed satisfied with his answers. Her posture seemed to relax slightly, and the glint in her eyes informs him that she is pleased and content with him. There is a nagging part in his brain that tells him that she is relieved that she doesn’t have to cut ties with him. Regardless he himself feels utterly reassured that he can still chat with her, that nothing has changed of their… relationship. She doesn’t ask why he decided now to come to her and try to assist her with her nightmares. Perhaps she is afraid of what he will say, judging by how close they have become. Claude too is grateful that she doesn’t ask, for he can imagine himself pink cheeks and spluttering like some tongue-tied fool that it’s because he cares about her.

“How long have you had these nightmares for?”

Once more there is silence between them. What did he expect: that she would spill out the contents? He opened his mouth to ask her to talk about how it makes her feel, only for his mouth to clamp when he realises that it won’t go anywhere. He contemplates advising her to speak to Manuela about how to deal with restless nights, maybe even make some concoctions to ease her. But then he recalls how stupidly stubborn the princess is, how she will never admit to being bothered over something as ‘trivial’ as nightmares. Edelgard is a tough nut to crack. Maybe he can engage in conversation outside the nightmare. Perhaps find something that she enjoys and speak about it. With that silently decided he stands up and paces around the room. At her table he notices something.

Moving over he sees a bust drawing of herself. Tentatively he picks it up to scrutinise it. The charcoal work is quite good, even if there are some smudges and errors in anatomy. He turns to her to see her eyebrows shoot up at the drawing he shows her.

“I didn’t know you’re an artist!” Claude remarks with a smile. “Ignatz will be over the moon when he learns of this.”

She looks humbled and more relaxed, so he sees that as a great start and win. “Ever since I was a child I enjoyed drawing.” There is a far-away look in her eyes, as if reminiscing good times. “There never was enough time for me to hone my skills. I guess I do not have as much time even now. But when I can, I draw what I see around the academy.”

“Draw what you see around the academy, huh,” he echoes. “So have you drawn me?”

Crimson blooms across Edelgard’s cheeks down to her collarbones. Claude feels his mouth drop agape to the floor in flabbergast. He had merely made a jape but-

“_Oh now you have to show me-_”

“I do not!” Edelgard rebuttals and stands upright to halt him from even thinking of going through her drawers.

Under any other circumstances he would pry around. But he came here to cheer her up, so he places the drawing of her on the drawer and walks towards her to sit back on the bed. He shoots her an apologetic smile, and he can tell that she can’t find it in herself to remain cross as she sits back down. She seems livelier now, no longer showing sign of melancholic sorrow. Another win for him.

“Well the next time you draw it has to be me, and then you will share it,” he decrees and pressed a thumb to his chest.

Edelgard barks out an amused laugh and lets a tiny haughty smile. “Dream on, Schemer.”

“Will do.”

They chuckle for a bit, a lively echo that rings pleasantly to the two lords. Having the gall Claude rests a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. She stares at him with austere wonder. He thumbs her shoulder, which alters between the white cotton fabric and the pallor skin. 

“I’ll ask Hilda to fake having nightmares so that she needs a bucket load of sleeping concoctions,” he declares with an auspicious smile. “She’ll do it, and deliver the stuff to my room. From there I will give them to you.”

Lilac eyes shoot up at the offer. Edelgard is rendered uncharacteristically speechless. There is a fond look to be found in her astonishment, genuine and lovely, and it nearly takes Claude’s breath away. This is something he wishes to engrain in his mind. Clearly there is a lot Edelgard wants to say, yet, oxymoronically, not enough to express how she truly feels. Instead she brings a hand over to rest it atop his on her shoulder. The callousness and grooves of her scars register on his hand, only to then fade away with her meticulous caresses. The bow of her lips curves into a touched smile.

“…Thank you.”

That is enough for him. He knows that his task is complete. Yet even so he wishes he could stay longer, chat with her a bit about her hobbies and his own, hear her adorable snorting laughs, and engrain her alluring eyes and rare smiles. He wants so much with her. Oh how he wants and wants; it grows more and more every day with her. Regardless he must be off. With a smile he retracts his hand and picks up the white bear stuffy.

“See you around, Edelgard,” he bids farewell, tongue rolling at how the name ‘tastes’ so good on his lips. He looks to the bear and gives it a kiss on the smiling mouth. “Goodbye to you too, Miss Bear.”

She snorts and takes the bear from him. He then stands up and slowly closes the door behind her. For a second he lingers on the spot. A smile adorns his usually neutral face as he retracts and heads to his dorm. As he walks to his room a sudden realisation smashes him in the gut. Red decorates his face, ears and neck. If humans are capable of combusting then he thinks he is just about to. That bear stuffy that he gave a kiss in light spirits is white with lilac ribbons. A metaphorical kiss to Edelgard… He now wonders with panic if this has dawned on Edelgard.

Now he will have trouble sleeping. 


	13. Should Be, Must Be (Better)

**A/N: There is a new EdelClaude Discord Server, 'Bergamot & Pine'! Just ask at 'https://twitter.com/cambriamath' if you wish to join in on the fun. We have serious discussions, Hegelclaude love, why is there no latrines in the Academy, and all EdelClaude stuff!**

**JohnnyAppleShy: Oh this isn't the end of fluff; angst has taken over, but there still will be some fluff (for now).**

**SeetherOO: I can't tell if you like this ship or not, but your comments make my day: your latest got a great laugh from me!**

* * *

Something peculiar is occurring in Remire Village.

There is disturbing news spreading across the monastery like a plague about the villagers going mad due to forbidden and ancient dark magic. Others dismiss it for collective illness… although what kind of disease makes all go mad and violent? Byleth and Jeralt are uncharacteristically nervous about what could be going on in the village that means everything to them. It is the place where Byleth was raised, so understandably the usually stolid former mercenary is pacing around the monastery with solicitous concern in their teal eyes. The Professor is interviewing witnesses to hear their verdicts, all the while asking Manuela about any cures for this bewildering ailment. The Archbishop has tasked the Golden Deer to assist Byleth in investigating the matter. Other Houses are not to get involved; the religious ruler stated that she wants all to continue normally, and to prevent panic from erupting.

That did not halt nervous speculations from the students. Claude noticed Dimitri, seemingly kind and dandy prince, look extremely mortified as he paced around the Training Grounds. Rage clouded his sky eyes, a feral look heightened by his hostility towards those that startled him such as Dedue and Ingrid, that even Claude didn’t dare chat or approach him. Outside the personality switch prince Leonie seemed weary about the village. He doesn’t blame her, considering she comes from a village. Fortunately she has Ignatz and Raphael to comfort her and keep her head held high.

As for him? Currently he is residing in the library, looking up ancient forbidden magic to see if any relate to what is occurring in Remire. None of the books teach anyone to conjure those spells, only what spells exist or existed. Lysithea has joined him on his endeavours, telling him all she knows about forbidden magic. Even she, the magical prodigy, is left dumbstruck. Clearly this is some forgotten magic. It may very likely be magic that the Arhcbishop and Seteth know of, but do not wish to share so to not startle their lambs. They expect him and his Deer to figure out what is happening by withholding information? How cumbersome…

“Hey Claudie!”

Lifting his head from his book he is greeted by the sight of the flirtatious and whimsical Dorothea. That smile on her face is so deliciously sweet that he feels he is looking at a mirror of himself. She is very much like him: acting all suave, but locking off their true self from the world that has abused them for too long. His comparisons end when he recalls how she pestered him about why Edelgard was red-faced a day after the feast. When he recalls of her pestering he pictures a fly with her face buzzing around his head. It would have brought a coy smile to his face, if not for how aggravating and embarrassing she was.

_“Edie is refusing to tell me anything. What did you do? Did you give her a goodnight kiss? Were you two getting a bit too steamy? Oh, did you confess your undying love for each other?_”

If there was one fortunate thing to have happened from her buzzing around him it was that she had confronted him in private. If the entire school had heard of her cheery accusations… well, it would be quite extraordinary timing that she was poisoned not too long after.

She stops in front of the desk he is reading from. Lysithea glances between the two and decides to spare the tanned boy to focus on the important task at hand by leaving. Under any other circumstances she would have, ‘unintentionally’, joined in on the teasing. Really he should report about being bullied.

“Dorothea,” he greeted with a neutral smile. He flicks his hand. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Her smile falters ever so slightly; she is trying to look in high spirits, so not to have those present in the library suspect her of being… sombre? Forest green eyes glance around, watching to be sure none would be eavesdropping. She leans her bust and elbows against the table to be closer to him.

“Do you know what is bothering Edie?”

Oh the temptation to roll his eyes is overwhelming…! Before he could make a jest he pauses and watches her face closely. There is no rapturous delight in making him uncomfortable, nor is there that knowing glint in her eyes. Perhaps… perhaps she is asking this seriously.

“I don’t know… honestly,” he adds and stares at her. He then cocks an eyebrow. “Why? Is she acting differently?”

Dorothea clicked her lips, unsure of how to answer that. “Well… she seems more… anti-social than usual,” she starts and rolls her bottom lips to find the next words. “Usually when someone offers to spend time with her she either kindly declines or decides to join.”

“But as of late she’s been… I wouldn’t say ‘hostile’ just… moody, as if she is aggravated by something she can’t understand,” Dorothea words, making sure her tone is only loud enough for Claude.

That does sound… unusual. Once more he carefully reads Dorothea’s face. There is a look of worry: she is being serious. He rubs his chin to contemplate as to what to make of this. It certainly has nothing to do with the day of the feast when they had been unexpectedly intimate with each other. After the incident with the confrontation of the nightmare she hadn’t been antagonistic towards him just… awkward. Clearly she has been trying to avoid him as much as she could, only engaging in meetings between House leaders. Lately she has been eyeing him with the uncertainty of someone conflicted about wishing to pursue something. Other than that she hasn’t been irritable or rude, just… unsure.

Claude pursues his lips in a pensive frown. “Haven’t you tried talking to her? You two are best friends last time I checked.”

“Of course I tried! But she said that she is fine, simply tired,” Dorothea sighed despondently and looked pleading at him. “Can you go check on her? She trusts you the most out of everyone… outside of Hubie of course, although he isn’t the best at comforting people.”

She really is serious about this. Without delay, and knowing that none of these books are assisting him, and that one small detour isn’t a terrible thing, he stands up from the desk. He inquires as to when was it the last time Dorothea saw her, in which the brunette said at the greenhouse. As he heads over he contemplates what could be bothering her so. Could it be that it has to do with Remire Village? That isn’t an odd thought, except for the fact that Edelgard is not one to be overtly antagonised when something terrible happens. Annoyed or solemnly respectful, yet never bothered. But what else could it be? Well he will inquire with her about it so no point over-thinking about it. If she doesn’t wish to talk about it… if she isn’t upset about the issue then he shan’t pester her.

Reaching the greenhouse he enters and halts when he sees the menacing retainer gardening with his mistress. Unfortunately, as if this man has eyes at the back of his black tendrils, he turns to him. The most trenchant of glares glows from his ominous yellow eyes. It is the opposite reaction to Edelgard, whom upon turning raises her eyebrows in surprise. Hubert comes to a stand, looming like a shadow over a meadow, hands gripped tightly as if to pummel him. He stomps up towards Claude, and the tanned boy simply smirks and looks up at him with a haughty expression.

“Must you continue to bother Lady Edelgard with your buffoonery?” Hubert scolds darkly with venom practically dripping with each word.

“Lovely to see you too, Hubes,” Claude greets, his smirk turning into a cat-like smile. “I just wish to check on your lady-”

“Leave her be you pitiful excuse of a House leader, for, although not clear to your eyes, we are busy as a result of losing to your childish bet,” Hubert interrupted with a scoff.

Now Claude frowns and crosses his arms. He wishes to show that he came here for a serious reason. “No need to get bothered; I just been told by a concerned Eagle that she has been acting off, and I want to see-”

“Lady Edelgard is perfectly-”

“Hubert, enough.”

Both men turn to see Edelgard lift a hand to Hubert to silence him. She seems aggravated by how childish the two are acting, judging by the deepened eyebrows and malicious glare. Hubert bows, and squats by his mistress’ side to continue with the gardening. Edelgard looks over to Claude with a neutral expression. It is how she looks around others not him, and he feels naked with how unused he is to her viewing him no differently from others.

“I doubt I telling you that ‘I am well’ will convince you and this Eagle of mine,” Edelgard starts, austere, eyes glancing to Hubert to halt him from barking out to Claude. “We can have this discussion later, over tea at the gazebo during lunch.”

Anything better than having Hubert ominously standing there wishing to eliminate him with that menacing scowl of his. Lunch won’t be too long from now. Claude smiles at her, looks over at Hubert with an oh-so sweet and smug grin, and then leaves the two to their gardening. He will see what is bothering Edelgard, and he has humiliated Hubert. That’s a double win for him.

* * *

Upon arrival at the gazebo Claude waves at his guest to his table. The princess is still clad in the summer wear top, shorts, and red leggings from working at the greenhouse and from the ‘a month the chosen House has to clean’ routines. The uniform hugs her torso and arms to compliment her athletic stature. Claude _may_ have decided to help her carry some heavy crates one day to see her muscles contort. Edelgard approaches and sits opposite him, her first instinct to try the tea. Her eyes light up in delight: bergamot. He got it especially for her, knowing that it should ease her into conversing with him. With some Adrestian sweet cakes on top of that and he believes he is set to go.

“So,” Claude begins after finishing his sip of mint tea. “I’ve been told by Dorothea that you’ve been… moodier than usual.”

Edelgard seems perplexed as she tilts her head to the side. “Have I?” Her lips purse into a pensive frown. She shakes her head, still confused. “I cannot recall being so.”

“Also more anti-social than usual,” Claude adds and offers her a sweet cake. His eyebrows knit solemnly. “Does it have something to do with what is going on at Remire Village?”

She lets out a despondent sigh. Her gloved hand traces the handle of her cup, and her eyes look into the murky pools of her tea. So he was right to assume. Still, it is intriguing as to why she is more bothered about something going on than usual. Yet he waits silently, patiently, wanting to hear from her end before catechising or making assumptions. With arms folded atop his desk he is her captive audience member, waiting for her to deliver her grandiose speech.

Edelgard looks up, eyes hardened. “I am frustrated with the amount of coincidences pilling up,” she starts with a bite of her lips. “First the arrival of the Professor, then the Sword of the Creator, this Death Knight, and now this strange madness consuming Remire.”

Her grip on her teacup is so tight that Claude almost pried the fingers off to stop her from crushing the handle. She grits her teeth tightly, no doubt aching her jaw. “I just… have this terrible feeling regarding Remire.”

Claude nods in understanding and agreement. He completely relates to her being frustrated by the lack of understanding what has been going on this year. More mysteries pile up to the point that he feels like he’s climbing a mountain made of it. Every time he feels like he is learning something, even some minute detail, it is rendered mundane or useless; Seteth confiscating the depiction of the Immaculate One being an excellent example. Trying to inquire with any of the Church members is impossible and draws suspicion on him. Them clearly knowing more than they let out is the biggest headache of all for him. 

“Dimitri shares the sentiment.” He takes a sip of his mint. Claude then flinches at a thought. He looks at Edelgard carefully after sipping his tea. “Do you know him by the way? He seems to be quite familiar with you that I thought he was like some old flame of yours.”

There is a frustrated look in Edelgard’s eyes. Her eyebrows knit deeply and her eyes dart to the side to contemplate. At first he would assume that it is a look representing that she is annoyed by Dimitri’s constant cordiality with her. But on closer inspection he sees how conflicted she looks; how she tries desperately to think hard as to whether she knows of him. It is the kind of expression of someone trying to recall if they recognise someone or not. It really, truly, looks as if she cannot recall ever meeting or knowing the prince.

After much deliberation she lets out a despondent sigh of defeat. “I would have remembered acquainting with the Prince of Faerghus.”

How true, although he still wonders if she can speak to the blond man to inquire with him as to why he seems to know her. “Maybe you can try to ask him yourself.”

She clicks her tongue. “There is too much work going on for me to speak with him, and likewise from his end too.” A lengthy pause, then, “Perhaps once we all ascend our position then I shall look into the matter with him personally.”

Why the pause was so weighty and long is beyond the tanned boy’s comprehension. Regardless he won’t push her into it, considering he hypothesises that she is afraid of what she will learn from Dimitri. On top of that she is far too secretive and cautious to approach him. The same can be said with him; he rarely socialises with Princey because he is too kind to be a ruler and to have serious discussions that question the foundations of Fódlan.

“Speaking of Princey, he insists on joining the Golden Deer with Remire,” he recalls and finishes his tea. His expression turns disturbed as he looks into his empty cup, and Edelgard eyes him with concern. “I’ve never seen him so… enraged. It’s like he’s a completely different person.”

“Perhaps he is reliving something traumatic that happened to him,” Edelgard suggests with a sullen tone in her levelled voice. Knowing her nightmares she can relate. “Maybe he thinks he can prevent another disaster that he went through by assisting your House.”

She finishes her tea and stares intently at him. Words seem stuck in her mouth as she opens it to say something. There is an uncharacteristically concerned look in her, and Claude doesn’t know what to do or if he should say something. Edelgard hovers a hand over his, only to then retract it before she could lay it atop his. Once again she looks conflicted like she did whenever she is being affectionate with him. There is a part of him shouting to confront this matter, while the other reminds him that he must respect her boundaries and remember that he shouldn’t mix politics and romance together. Keep it at a crush, a pining stage, nothing more. Love her all you want, but you can never pursue it. And yet… and yet… and yet he wants her to be open about her feelings.

“Just… be careful, Claude.” Edelgard says with a warmth that rids his perturbed thoughts and reminds him that ‘sorry, you like her too much to let it go’.

He doesn’t quite know how to express himself with how solicitous she is. There is this tiny pestering part that tells him that she is more bothered than she lets out. Perhaps she, like Dimitri, views Remire as something similar that happened to her in the past. Mayhap she is terrified of losing him, after losing her siblings. It warms him to know that she does, truly, genuinely, care about him, even if it is in her Edelgard-y ways.

Claude smiles his award-winning smile. “Since when am I ever not?”

“I am being serious here,” Edelgard warns with furrowed brows. Usually she would have snorted amusedly, thus he feels startled. She stares right through him. “Whatever will happen… stay vigilant and strong.”

The goofy mirth in Claude disappears to be replaced with him watching her fondly. He places a hand atop the one that she had retracted. His fingers brush under her glove to rub the scars he had seen diseased across it. She doesn’t pull away as he had expected. Although conflicted as she appears, she is resolute in how she wants Claude to take this seriously. He gives her a solemn nod and a dares to give her hand a quick comforting squeeze.

“I will.”

* * *

Remire has turned into a disaster.

Clenching his teeth to suppress the bite mark received to his side from a feral villager Claude wanders alone across the desolate houses in search of survivors. He has told Basma to fly to the nearest town to get help to treat his Deer and the survivors taken in Jeralt’s care. Emerald eyes dart around through burnt down houses and bushes in case there are more feral survivors wishing to ambush him. With sword in hand he cautiously stalks around the corners of the buildings. Being on his own usually isn’t the smartest idea, but the enemies have left the area.

He growls in disgust at knowing that Tomas-no, Solon-and his henchmen managed to escape before they could be dealt with. To think that such a cruel figure was amongst everyone this entire time leaves him feeling dismayed at having not picked up on it. He is meant to be perceptive! How did he not suspect anything? Since when is he this useless? He stopped being useless since he first learnt to fight for himself against purist Almyrans that think a ‘mongrel’ like him deserves to die. His abhorrence grows tenfold when he thinks how his House could do nothing to save those mad villagers. All that they could do was slice and dice them down to save those unaffected.

He can visualise perfectly, as if he time travelled at that moment, the looks on his Deer: Marianne mumbling about how the Goddess could be so cruel; Raphael cursing as he tore through burning walls with a child, Hilda chuckling nervously when she cleaved a charging villager, and so forth. Dimitri had to be knocked out because of how enraged he became, as if he was one of the villagers. This isn’t how he wishes to use people. Although he has toyed with people like pawns for his own gain, he would never, _ever_, abuse their rights. Everything that has happened makes him feel sick to his gut. Being so hopeless has never felt this heartbreaking.

“You must be Claude von Riegan.”

Hearing that oddly metallic voice made him quickly turn to the source. When his eyes found the speaker they shifted into a trenchant glare. Atop a fallen house beam stood an armoured figure with a mighty black cloak that hugged his person. Atop the pauldrons are red feathers that soar above his head. Clad in a helmet the enigma wears a mask splashed with red and white. Two strange orbs that look like pearls etched into eye sockets gleam towards him. There is no mistaking the figure.

Claude lets out a mirthless smile. “Flame Emperor, I presume.” He places his sword away, knowing that it won’t even scratch the armour. He’ll have to get his bow and arrows when the enigma least expects it. “The tacky get-up gives it away.”

It is impossible to gauge how the figure reacts. “I am not here to fight you. I wish for you to listen to a proposal of mine.”

At that Claude scoffs a few dry laughs and snarls maliciously at the enigma. “Why should I listen to you when you turned the villagers mad because you believe you can manipulate people’s lives to satisfy some inflatable ego? You couldn’t be bothered coming here yourself; left the work to your minions Solon and the Death Knight.”

His hands clench so tightly that they hurt. He bit his tongue out of rage, blood now seeping and offering its terrible taste. “You’re nothing but a coward, someone who delights in others’ miseries to achieve whatever it is you desire.”

“Do not associate me with those who committed this atrocity…!” That anger and disgust nearly made Claude flinch at the unexpected ferocity of the usually monotonous tone. “You may think that I am their leader, yet I am nothing more than a pawn to them.”

“And I am meant to take your word for it, after what has happened here!?” Claude barks back, suppressing a whine from the sudden movement that placed pressure on his side.

“Had I known what Solon had planned to do, I would have done everything in my power to have stopped him,” the Flame Emperor insists, voice returning to its droning tone. “I share your animosity to what has happened.”

“Is that so…” Claude mumbles disbelievingly to himself. His eyes search those glassy orbs. The lack of emotion makes him wonder if this Flame Emperor is even human. “If you’re nothing but a pawn, a ‘misunderstood’ person, then tell me who this group it is you work for.”

The Flame Emperor shakes his head. “I only will if you accept my proposal.”

“Which is…?”

“To join forces with me.”

…Come again…?

Claude blinks stupidly, thinking that this is some sinister jest. He stares very carefully at the impassive figure. His mouth is agape, struggling to form the words to say something, anything, to the enigma. Internally his brain has turned liquid from the audacity of the Flame Emperor’s proposal. Somehow he still is functioning. If he were anyone else he would have lashed out. But he remains silent, wanting to hear what the Flame Emperor’s goals are to better judge this mysterious figure.

“My goal is to better Fódlan’s future, to change the country so that abuse of power is no more,” the Flame Emperor specifies. “From what I gather from my sources you seem to have ambitions of bettering Fódlan.”

“With your tactical intellect we can defeat Solon’s group and create a prosperous Fódlan.” The armoured individual extends a hand out. “Join me, Claude von Riegan, and together we can stop our foes.”

This person wishes to create a Fódlan free from abuse of power… How humorous, _how hysterical_, when this very figure is abusing it to ascertain his goal. Oh the hypocrisy of it all leaves his blood boiling. If there is one thing he hates more than a cowardly ruler it is a hypocritical one that plays the divine saviour. This ‘misunderstood’ person wishes to better Fódlan after allowing Solon, and the Death Knight, _the figure he was told that takes directs order from the Flame Emperor_, to turn villagers mad. Some of these people tried to attack their own children, partners, and friends. For someone wanting the best, he seems oh-so nonchalant about what has occurred. The sheer audacity… He feels this close to snapping.

Claude smiles a passive aggressive one that would send chills to anyone. “I’ll join you,” he decrees too sweetly. “I’ll join a hypocrite that toys with people’s lives and does nothing to stop the group he works for. I’ll join a ruler who is nonchalant about people dying and not intervening to save lives.”

He could have sworn that he saw the Flame Emperor’s posture sag. His hand flops to his side. “How unfortunate,” he says, although his filtered voice leaves no hint of whether he really is disappointed or not. “Then the next time we meet it-”

With lightning-fast reflexes Claude took out his bow and fired an arrow. It only grazed the cheek of the mask, creating a scratch against it. Firing so quickly made Claude hiss and buckle on his knee. The bite mark on his side opened up more, along with the other wounds he received during this mission. Blood seeps through his attire. Specs flicker across his eyes. Pain pounds throughout his body.

“Foolish of you to think you can fight me in your sorry condition,” the Flame Emperor ridicules. The figure turns away. “I shall spare you, but know that when we cross paths again only one of us will survive.”

As the figure walks away Claude is left reeling from just how truly hopeless he is…

* * *

In the wyvern stables Claude feels he can be open to express how he is feeling about Remire with Basma. Around his shaken Deer he had to smile neutrally and assure them that everything is fine, and that they did all they could. Keeping up the façade of an unfazed leader is so draining on his mental health. After delivering the report to the Archbishop and House leaders he needed to be alone. Basma whines in dismay and nudges him, her way of apologising for not being there for him when he encountered the Flame Emperor. He assures her that she did extraordinary work sending for help with a few pats on her albino head. He leans his forehead against Basma’s to close his eyes and allow a whimper to escape him.

Everything feels so overwhelming. He knows he should be strong, that he must keep his head high, but… The burden is so great that he feels his bones breaking. His lungs feel like they are no longer there. The world feels as if it has disappeared. Damn it… damn it, he didn’t think he’d be this badly affected. 

“I thought I would find you here.”

Lifting his forehead off Basma he turns to see Edelgard at the stable doorway. Her expression is solicitous pensiveness, lilac softened lightly as she regards him. Playing nonchalant as usual he simply smiles towards her.

“You know me well, Princess,” he remarks.

She then becomes deadpan, arms crossed as she stares intently at him. “Do not act so coy. I could tell when you delivered the news of Remire that you are affected.”

Blunt and to the point as always. To any other person they would be offended by her ‘lack of consideration’, but he knows that, that is her means of showing she cares. Basma hums in affirmation, before Claude could even think to deny Edelgard’s accusation. His smile vanishes as he frowns sullenly towards her. One of his hands scratches Basma’s chin. Heh, seems that whenever he is nervous he still pats a wyvern, just like when he did as a child.

He looks to the side, away from her prying gaze. “You weren’t at Remire. What happened was… I don’t have the words to describe it.”

His brows furrow so deeply that his forehead aches. “I feel that I, the so-called masterful tactician, should have been able to save more lives and to have captured Solon or the Flame Emperor.” He clenches his teeth and stops patting Basma. “Everyone expects me to have a plan for everything, to be prepared for anything, and yet…”

“Do not pity or belittle yourself,” Edelgard cuts in. Her voice softens: “You managed to save some lives, and being able to save even one is better than none.”

Claude barks some dark laughs and shakes his head. “If only I could see it like that.”

Silence fills the area. Curses he hates being so fragile. Something rests itself against his arm. Still he refuses to look. The something, a hand, gently caresses his arm, prodding him to look at the owner. When he still refuses he then feels something cup his cheek, scarred and calloused, firm yet oxymoronically gentle. Slowly the hand turns his head so that he is looking at Edelgard. Gently she thumbs his cheek, as if to wipe tears, her expression stern but not uncaring. Basma nudges the small of his back, urging him to speak and lean into the touch. He is so unused to such affection from anyone, save his parents, that he is rendered immobile. His emerald eyes glisten, touched, unapologetically open to her.

Edelgard allows for a tiny smile. “You know what? I will take your offer to draw you, with you as my muse.”

He snorts, and it is the first time since Remire that he feels somewhat happy. Without word he nods, and she retracts her hands from his cheek and arm. Once she places her glove back on she gives Basma a few pats, utters how she will bring her some fine meat later in the day, and the wyvern hums contently as she nudges the princess’ chest. Claude feels a weak smile as he watches the two bond. He follows after the heir, with only two words occupying his mind.

_Thank you._

* * *

In her room he is given a chair to sit on, opposite Edelgard’s bed as the princess gathers her art tools and sits down in front of him. She instructs him to have a neutral expression: his usual false smiling and the charismatic glint in his eyes. He does so effortlessly; he has become so used to this mask of his. Edelgard took out a bag of sweets and placed it on the desk behind Claude, in case he needs to snack during her drawing. For someone so blunt on how he must keep his head high, she is much kinder than she tends to let out with people. 

“I will not be drawing you nude,” she jests, which contrasts with her concentrated glower as she glances up and back at her canvas.

At that the dour Claude chuckles. He even manages to joke: “Such a shame for you.”

“I would not wish to give people the wrong idea,” Edelgard says dryly as she starts drawing him. “Hubert would murder you before you even had a chance.”

Claude pouts, ignoring Edelgard protesting him to not change his expression so much. “Emperors have consorts. You having a naked ol’ me would be… a test to see if you are ready to engage with them.”

That pink blush on her cheeks lightens his dampened spirit. Her blush vanishes when she looks up at him seriously. “I do not plan to have any consorts. That will be one of the first things I abolish as emperor.”

How very much like her. He stays still for a bit, observing how meticulous she appears in how she draws him. Honestly the concentrated glower makes him chuckle: she takes everything she does so seriously. Some of her hair falls across her face, and oh the temptation to stand up and brush it aside is almost intoxicating.

“Then I presume you would marry for political purposes,” Claude speaks.

“Romance is not in my future,” Edelgard answers, and he detects that she is more disappointed by this than she lets out.

“Nor mine.” Claude brushes the bottom of his lips with his teeth. On his laps his hands clench. Nerves consume him. Daringly, he utters, “But… maybe it doesn’t have to be that way?”

Edelgard halts and looks at him. A rueful smile etches across her. “You and I know that as future leaders of our countries we do not have the luxury to fall in love with someone.”

Claude sighs, and then laughs. Really he doesn’t know why he’s laughing when nothing humorous is happening. Regardless it leaves him in better spirits. “Hey, you’re meant to be cheering me up!”

“I am merely being realistic,” Edelgard snorts, amusedly, her smile now genuine.

Her eyebrows light up at a thought. Setting her utensils aside on the bed she stands up and approaches him. She tells him to stay still. Carefully she undoes a ribbon and tentatively ties it to his side braid. At this proximity he feels pulled by some force to give her a kiss on the cheek. Once done Edelgard returns to her bed and beams at Claude.

“Just something for you to remember me when I give you this drawing.”

At that Claude tilts his head and smiles fondly at her. One of his hands brushes against the ribbon tied to his side braid. “As if I can ever forget about you, Edelgard.”

She looks up and stares back with equal fondness. Any sombre feelings of today is placed aside as he finds himself lost in her lilac eyes. He feels, as corny as this would sound from anyone to him, at home. This home allegory grows more descriptive: a warm fire, welcoming and serene; inside, where he can allow his façade to crumble; safe, with someone there to wait for him. Their gazes linger for quite some time, far longer than deemed necessary between two friends. His mind recollects every memory, minute and significant, of Edelgard, from their first meeting to now. Her rare smiles just for him; her wisdom that allows him to engage in intelligent conversations with her; her strength that leaves his speechless, and her as a person of many surprises that leaves him feeling fond and attached to her.

_I love you._

Edelgard echoes the sentiment as she continues the drawing. Some time passes until she utters that she is done. He stands up to walk over and have a look by sitting beside her. His eyes light up in flabbergast. The drawing of him is not of how he looked, neutral and sly, but how he is around her. The charcoal is light around his eyes, crinkled out of joy, eyes shining with nothing but rapturous delight. His smile isn’t low and fake, but curved to his ears to showcase a goofy yet sincere side to him. The ribbon stands out upon his braid with its dark strokes. Every little meticulous detail is etched in, even the earing on his left ear. With a thumb he carefully brushes the face, awed at the skill and love placed into it. He takes the picture and looks over at Edelgard with the exact same look as her drawing.

“Thank you, Edelgard.”

Edelgard looks humbled by his high commendation. She then becomes pleased as she points to his face. “That’s the look that suits you, Claude.”

He grins at her. Then, realising that he still has her ribbon tied to his side braid, he undoes it with a carefulness reserved just for her. Done he then pivots his person and slowly starts to tie it in her hair. As he does the two find themselves lost in each other’s gazes once more. When he finishes tying the ribbon his hand gravitates to her cheek to cup it. He smooths his thumb over the pallor skin, enamoured by the warmth it radiates, so much like how her fiery eyes emits affection to him, and him alone. Just as she seems to lean into his touch she pulls away and turns to place her art equipment away. He simply smiles and comes to a stand, his emerald eyes now glued to the drawing of him. When he bids her farewell and leaves her be, he heads down to his room, never looking away from the picture and the delightfully formal signature of hers written in the corner. Once in his room he lays on the bed and admires Edelgard’s handiwork with utmost affection. After the miserable event of Remire, he finds himself full of mirth as he hugs the drawing to his chest.

* * *

**A/N: Basma can't sense/smell that Edelgard is the Flame Emperor because she has a different scent as the Flame Emperor (like with her voice).**


	14. The Night to be Open (Perhaps)

**A/N: Thank you everyone for the 200 kudos! This is quite the long chapter, so I may take a small break before updating again :).**

* * *

“Are you going to ask Edelgard to the dance?”

Claude looks up from his desk to see Hilda with hands on hips and a pout that tells him to answer with a ‘yes’. He cocks his eyebrow at her and then turns back to his Almyran folklore book to resume reading.

“If Hubert doesn’t try to kill me first then maybe,” he answers as he flicks to another page. “Although if she says no I won’t be surprised, considering neither of us wants anyone to think we’re a couple.”

In a blink his book is snatched from his hands. He turns to see that Hilda chucked it atop his bed and stared at him unimpressed. Knowing that she is going to nag him he pivots his chair to face her.

“So no,” Hilda bluntly comments with a deadpan expression. She groans in dismay and shoots her hands up in exasperation. “Come on, Claude; you’re not one to back away from a challenge!”

Claude lifts his hands up as if guilty and purses his lips. “I’m just stating the facts!” 

That didn’t do for his best friend. She twirls around his room, knocking a few book piles that came in range of her footwork. “The ball is the time for people to express their feelings for someone,” she spins and points at him with her charming grin. “It’s the perfect time for _you_ to confess your feeling to Edelgard!”

Claude shakes his head, a droll smile etching on his face. “You read one too many romance books.”

Hilda huffs at his pinpoint accusation. Her posture sags and she then stares solemnly at him with concerned eyes. Usually he would chuckle at how she is turning something so trivial into something equivalent to a life or death situation.

“There are only a few months left until graduation. If you don’t tell her how you feel then you’re going to regret it.”

His cheeky expression vanishes instantly to be replaced with melancholic forlornness. A despondent sigh escapes him. Emerald eyes glance over to the drawing of him that peered from the drawer. Of course he’s aware; he’s been aware that a few months remain for sometime. During these past days he’s been trying to figure out what has been going during this year regarding the condemnable events that have occurred. At the same time he has been slowly coming to terms that he is in love with Edelgard. Not a crush, but the full-blown ‘I’m in love with you’ stage. As much as he has tried to suppress his feelings, constantly reminding himself that he mustn’t pursue it, that his ambition doesn’t allow room for romance, the yearning grows and grows.

The closer the end of schooling nears the more tempted he is to spew out his affections to Edelgard. No matter how hard he tries to fight these feelings, he sinks into the quicksand of pining until he can barely breathe. It has ignited to an inferno, unable to be cooled down and tamed. His dreams consist of scenarios of him and Edelgard kissing, confessing, or holding hands, dreams that he would have laughed or rolled his eyes at if someone else told him that they’re experiencing them. When she avoids him or subtly glances at him with the same yearning gaze he gives her his heart feels like it is caving in. But she is like him: they place their duties above all else… including finding authentic love.

After a lengthy silence Claude lets out a sigh. “I know, Hilda.” He turns to her with an austere expression. “Yet I am going to be the future sovereign of the Alliance. I can’t just choose my partner just because I’m in love; I must choose one for the benefit of the country. Even for political purposes, I mixing with Edelgard will lead to unfair bias and misguided ruling.”

Hilda waved her hand dismissively. “I know, I know!” She then cocks her head. “Don’t you want to spend time with her for at least these last months? You may not pursue it afterwards, but why not enjoy your time before it comes to an end?”

Yes… Yes he wants to spend time with her for these last months. He wants to confess his feelings before they part ways. He wants to know how she feels, truly, without the façade. Oh how he wants and wants. Claude allows a hopeful smile to cross his face. It’s worth trying. He stands up from his chair and pats his hand on Hilda’s shoulder.

“Wish me luck!”

Pink eyes gleam along with her flash of pearly whites as she gives him a thumbs up. “You got this!”

* * *

Heading to the wyvern stables Claude contemplates how to ask Edelgard to the dance. As he makes his way his thoughts shift in perspective. Realistically speaking he would rather have her ask him out. Thus he shall wait some time to see if she will. If not… well, then maybe he’ll make the first move. Maybe. But he doesn’t want to come across as desperate. He’s made a fool of himself around her before, now it is her turn! Yet she is ridiculously stubborn… but even the most resolute person can break. Yes he just told Hilda that he would do it, but she should know by now that he can be quite the liar.

Entering the stables he comes to a halt. Before Basma is Marianne, feeding the albino wyvern and cooing as she rubbed the dragon’s chin. The sight brings a smile to Claude. It is always a rewarding sight seeing Marianne in bright spirits.

He moves to the side so that he is in line of her peripheral vision so to not frighten her. The enthusiastic shrill of Basma alerts Marianne’s attention to Claude. She doesn’t jump like she used to, another tell-tale sign of her improving wellbeing.

Claude grins at her. “Thanks for looking after Basma for me.”

“Oh, um, thank you for being fine with it,” Marianne remarks with a bow of her head. She allows for a tiny smile to outshine her grey eyes. They’ve been less baggy as of lately. “She really is a mischievous wyvern.”

That remark makes him chuckle and look over at the coy and oh-so innocent Basma. He gives her some pats and taps her snout to earn a disapproving grumble from the scaly being. Marianne could be felt beaming beside him.

A question pops into the tanned boy’s head as he thinks of Marianne’s increasing auspicious, but still somewhat shy, nature. He turns to her, still patting his dragon. “I presume you won’t be attending the ball.”

Marianne nods in affirmation. Her hands crumple the hem of her blouse as she looks down at the pavement. “I don’t want to ruin the mood with my presence. Besides I am not… a very good dancer or talker.”

He understands that some people are not into such events. In all honesty, although it may come as a surprise to many, he too is not into luxurious balls or parties. Perhaps it stems from the fact that back in Almyra when he attended parties at the palace everyone stared at him with revulsion or pity.

“If you wish to stay in your room instead then that is absolutely fine,” Claude states, honestly, and smiles at the startled Marianne that blinks owlishly at him. His smile turns pensive. “But will you be fine on your own?”

Marianne nods. “I am used to it.”

There is certainly nothing wrong with having some alone time. He enjoys spending times on his own, away from inquisitive whispers and dirty looks, away from ignorant people with words so dirty that his ears could bleed. But there is a difference between seeking some quiet downtime and being lonely. With how Marianne has been opening up to the Deer and other people, the last thing he wants is for her to revert back to her fortified shell. Of course he doesn’t want to push her into going to something that doesn’t interest her. No he just wants her to have fun in the company of a friend.

At the thought of friend his emerald eyes light up. Glancing over at Basma her pink eyes twinkle in mutual understanding. With a flash of pearly whites he turns back to Marianne, whom cocks her head at his strange boost of whimsical energy.

“I think Leonie could spend time with you.”

Marianne flinches at that, back straightening up as if someone pricked her with needles. Her burrows furrow doubtfully at his suggestion. “I… I wouldn’t want her to feel like she has to spend time with me.”

“Knowing Leonie she absolutely would _love_ to spend time with you.” Did he purposely stress out ‘love’ to earn a pink blush from the bashfully crushing Marianne? Yes, yes he did. “I spoke with her at the dining hall about whether she is going or not, and she told me no because she’s one not a good dancer, and two she’s not fond of being around crummy nobles.”

He spreads out his arms as if expecting some applause. “What better way to spend the night away from the ball than with a close and wonderful friend?”

Marianne fiddled with a lock of her blue hair, now uncertain as to whether she should pursue this idea or not. Claude placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled a genuine and comforting one. “I won’t push you into asking Leonie. That decision is up to you.”

With that addressed he takes his leave, with one final glance at Basma that told her to not press Marianne into this. He may have not been able to figure out how Edelgard will ask him to the dance (and she has to initiate the action), but helping out a fellow Deer leaves him feeling whimsical and content.

* * *

Nobody is in the greenhouse: this is the perfect place for him to contemplate his next course of action. He paces back and forth amongst the flowers, his eyes trained on a red and white flower that he imagines is Edelgard. Coming to a halt he gently grabs one of the red petals in a manner of taking someone’s hand, and cocks his eyebrow in an inquisitive manner.

“I do say, Princess, it seems the ball is tonight! Knowing how ‘charming’ and ‘approachable’ you are, I can not help but wonder if anyone would dare ask you to be their dance partner.”

Claude smirks and giggles at his haughty tone, eyes shut and head down as he tries to take this seriously. Clearing his throat he straightens up and adjusts his expression so he is all charming and suave. He lets go of the petal to salute at the flower.

“Princess! Fancy bumping into the only House leader that hasn’t been asked out to the dance!” He then makes a faux exaggerated gasp with his hand to his mouth. “Oh don’t look so crestfallen! I know that a House leader is expected to dance with a number of students, but surely you do not wish to look unapproachable by not having a partner.”

He then wiggles his eyebrows and ‘coyly’ plays with his collar. “Perhaps, if you wish to maintain a good image, you _could_ ask me to be your partner. I may _just _have enough kindness in my heart to say yes.”

“Ah-ha! I found you!”

Jumping out of his skin Claude lets out an uncharacteristically high-pitch yelp. Instantly letting go of the flower he quickly turns on the spot and does his utmost best to look neutral, and not a boy caught talking to a flower that he imagines is someone he wishes to dance with. At the entrance is Caspar-oh he’s power walking up to him-and now he’s dragging him out the greenhouse to go behind the building. Claude looks down at the smaller boy with bafflement and slight caution, wondering if he’ll accuse him of something. There is a resolute expression in Caspar’s face, the kind of look of someone determined to achieve something with any means.

Caspar points to him. “You’re a charming person, right? You can approach anyone and ask them to do something and they’ll do it, yes?” 

All semblance of Claude’s caution dispersed, yet his dumbfound confusion remained and grew tenfold. “I’d say so, although I can’t make anyone do what I want.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Why you ask?”

Caspar pressed a finger to his lips to shush him. The mint haired brawler looks behind and in front to be sure that they are alone and away from eavesdroppers. Once he judges that the coast is clear a bashful pink blush paints Caspar’s cheeks as he looks down and rubs the back of his head. Oh now Claude is completely lost. Since when is the rowdy and boisterous Caspar, the boy that picks fights with Felix to prove who is stronger, the boy with a voice that could wake the dead, ever shy and taciturn? Has a poor curse befallen the boy?

Caspar looks up and Claude, lips bitting down as if to supress himself from vomiting out some terrible secret. He grumbles this horrible revelation: “…How do I ask someone to the dance?”

Oh…Ohh!

Claude could not help but let out a relieved sigh. All that build up for this? Really he shouldn’t judge too harshly, considering he himself is having similar troubles. He shakes his head at how silly this all is and places his hands on his hips.

“Who’s the person?” 

Caspar stomps a foot down and frowns. “N-None of your business!”

He nearly opened his mouth to rebuke that it is important, otherwise he can’t judge how the smaller boy should ask the person out, only to clamp it when he realised he can’t reason with Caspar. Who could this person be? As Claude contemplates he then remembers one fine dining with Edelgard. The two shared a meal and he, being a lover of gossip, inquired with her as to what Eagle(s) is crushing on whom.

_“It is none of my business as to who of my House members is crushing on whom,” Edelgard said in that motherly tone of hers while eating. Lilac eyes regard him steely from her sweet bun trio meal. “Nor is it yours.”_

_He pouts, extremely unpleased with her response. With his spoon he pokes her chest. “Come on, Princess, don’t be so boring! Surely you can’t help but be interested as to what your little eagles are feeling towards someone!”_

_Edelgard purses her lips and tries her very best to ignore his constant jabbing at her chest. He wiggles his eyebrows and hums inquisitively at her, each jab harder than the last. She scoffs and brushes it aside, a sigh escaping her as she stares deadpan at him. Lilac dart around and oh he feels a devilish grin on his face at knowing that he won this battle._

_“I am uncertain, but Caspar has been acting rather odd around Ferdinand. He doesn’t talk over him, actually listens to what he has to say, and acts quite shy whenever Ferdinand compliments him.”_

Of course realising whom Caspar is crushing on doesn’t mean that Claude will blurt it out. Doing so would not allow Claude any peace with a catechising and accusing Caspar breathing down his neck. If that doesn’t end his life, then Edelgard rushing up to him with axe ready will. Although realistically speaking she would refuse to speak to him ever again, and that is somehow worse. Anyhow he is going on a tangent.

Claude rubs his chin to think as to how someone like Caspar can ask a flamboyant person like Ferdinand. The ginger has criticised the tanned boy for his schemes, and even recommended that he takes lessons from him to be a proper noble. But outside the proud appearance and aura, Ferdinand is a good man; he has only the best of wishes and intentions at heart.

When he recalls these elements he believes he has concocted the perfect recipe to help Caspar ask Ferdinand to the dance.

“The best way to approach someone is to first initiate conversation,” he begins with an auspicious smile. “Once you’ve relaxed them, then talk about the ball, and see if they’re going out with someone or not. From there, if they say no, you ask them out, and explain why you want them to be your partner!”

Caspar considers his words carefully with a scrunched up face. It used to amuse Claude how serious people act when trying to ask someone for a dance. Now though he feels like a dissolving puddle when he thinks about asking Edelgard or her asking him to the dance. The brawler grins and shoots his fists into the air with determination. He claims that he gets it, and then he thanks Claude and dashes off to find Ferdinand. Claude waves at him with a smile, only for it to falter when he thinks how he wishes he had the courage—and to a degree a lack of an over-thinking mind—to ask Edelgard to the dance.

* * *

Perhaps there are books that can give him tips to trick someone into making the first move. He has read such books on matters of politics, but not on matters of love. If he is to find such books then he must skim read them and dash off before anyone suspects him for having feelings for another. Sylvain no doubt has such books, but Claude isn’t _that_ desperate to ask the womanizer to borrow them. Poisoning the former Lion for spreading rumours that he’s in love could start an investigation that would kill the entire mood for the ball.

Climbing up the stairs he comes to a halt. By the doorway to the library is a not-so subtle Lysithea peering from a wall at a certain helper of Rhea. He lets an amused smile cross his face. Of course Lysithea is reluctant about whether she should ask Cyril to the ball. Alas it is something he too can relate to, even if her reasoning is due to bashfulness and not pride. Best to help her, considering she will _never_ ask Cyril, nor will the boy think to ask her. 

With the widest grin he raises a hand as he walks pass and shouts a welcoming, “Cyril! How are you doing, buddy?”

Lysithea is hissing warningly at the House leader, only to then duck away before Cyril could see her. A few monks shoot Claude dirty looks and utter for him to keep his voice down. Cyril tilts his head to the side as Claude saunters to him all brotherly and sweet.

“Fine, I guess? But since when am I your buddy?” Cyril inquires with blinking amber eyes.

Claude waves dismissively and then lets out a genuine smile. “Are you going to attend the ball? You are a student now after all.”

Cyril purses his lips. “I don’t think I should,” he starts and shakes his head. “I would just get in everyone’s way. Besides, I don’t even know how to dance!”

Claude tuts and shakes his head in dismay. “Such a shame, especially since you make valid points.” A sombre looks crossed the future sovereign. “Can you imagine poor Lysithea dancing with you?”

The younger tanned boy flinches. Claude continues with a despondent sigh and a hand to his forehead. “You would constantly step on her toes! Oh the scene you would cause! No wonder she would _never_ ask you out to the ball-”

“_That’s not true!_”

Bingo~!

Both boys turn to see Lysithea standing between the doorway with her pink eyes directed at Cyril. “I don’t care if he can’t dance; I can’t either! I want him to come to the ball with me!”

Upon blurting that out Lysithea squirms and is flustered at the attention drawn to her. Glancing to Cyril, Claude sees the boy equally flustered and flabbergasted. Looking between them he sees them gawking, with Cyril smiling nervously yet auspiciously towards her. With his work done Claude decides to quietly leave the library. As he passes Lysithea he taps her shoulder and leans close to her ear.

“You’re welcome, Lys~!”

Before he could leave she grabs him by the shirt and pulls him back to her ear level. She turns to him and warns, “You better ask Edelgard out to the ball, otherwise I’m telling everyone about your crush.”

Claude chuckles nervously as he pulls away and makes his leave to find the very princess. 

* * *

Damn it, why is he such an amazing matchmaker but so hopeless when it comes to _his_ own chances? For someone so charismatic and nonchalant about starting conversations with anyone, he is acting oh so nervous and foolish. He is not one to be so proud, but with the princess he really wants her to ask him. To have her concede that she likes him through asking him to the ball will give him the confidence to confess to her. At this stage she must know that he likes her more than a close friend, and he knows that she likes him too as something more. But she is unused to affections, not used to being emotionally open to anyone, let alone a potential love interest. To her everything is out to get her, everything is out to abuse her, and everything is against her happiness. Not that he is any better; he is exactly like her, all the trust issues and second-guessing people’s natures…

Curses why are they both so damn proud and paranoid with each other!?

Few months left until you part ways, his brain constantly reminds him. After that you won’t be able to enjoy romance amongst yourselves. You’ll be marrying someone else, someone you won’t love, but someone that will benefit your vision in the making. The same for Edelgard; she will marry for political reasons, not trusting herself to differentiate between you as a lover and as a political ally. Then make the most of it. Go on, before you regret it, his brain screamed. Make the most of it. _Make the most of it._

As he walks down the corridor he sees Edelgard rounding the corner. He smiles and approaches her… only for his smile to harden when Hubert rounds the corner with her. Trying to have her ask him to the dance is going to be practically impossible with Hubert around. Regardless the snake-looking retainer isn’t going to stop him. Maybe Edelgard will shoo him off.

“Princess!” Claude calls joyously with a wave. The two Eagles halt, with Edelgard giving him a curt nod while Hubert glares trenchantly down at him. He smiles at her. “It is always lovely seeing your stoic face.”

“Be gone you insolent insect,” Hubert huffs cantankerously with his single yellow eye flashing maliciously at him.

Claude rubs his chin thoughtfully towards Edelgard. “Did you hear some barking, Princess? I could have sworn I heard something.”

Edelgard suppresses her giggles while Hubert, crossed armed, growls and smiles darkly at the charming boy. “You are not only deaf but blind as well. It should make disposing you all the more easier.”

Claude turns to Hubert and makes an exaggerated gasp of astonishment. “Why Hubes! How delightful it is to see you! Always a ray of sunshine amongst your peers.”

Hubert scoffs at the Deer. “Your stupidity shows no limits; always managing to leave me speechless as to how you are the future sovereign of the Alliance.”

An innocent shrug from Claude. The boy then turns back to Edelgard, a genuine smile crinkling his cheeks. “So I was wondering-”

“Wonder no further, for we have other business to attend to,” Hubert interrupts as he comes between the two House leaders. His stern expression somehow grows tenfold. “If you would be so kind to move along.”

Claude splutters as Hubert shoulders him aside. “Hold on, I just need to talk with her-”

“There is always another time,” Hubert abruptly cuts in, laconic and to the point. Edelgard seems austere and inclined to deal with this ‘business’, even if she seems willing to hear Claude out with her softened eyes. “You are wasting our time.”

Claude tries to reach out for Edelgard’s hand, only for his wrist to be grasped by Hubert. Before anything could break out an obnoxiously loud yawn attracts the three’s attention. To everyone’s surprise Linhardt approaches them, looking quite cantankerous with his knitted eyebrows and annoyed pout. Claude wiggles his hand out of the retainer’s grip as the three are left utterly puzzled as to why the lazy man has come to them.

Coming from around a corner where Linhardt had approached upon was a fidgety Dorothea, looking around the area until her eyes trained on the magic user. She stomps up to the bothered man until she stands next to him.

Dorothea grumbles and scolds, “Lin, don’t go whining to Edie about I ‘pushing’ you into learning something valuable!”

Linhardt lets out a tired sigh and waves his hand. “But that is precisely what you have been trying to do: push me to learn reason magic, when I am perfectly content with simply pursuing faith.” He then appears to notice Hubert and Claude. “Oh, hello you two.”

Still perplexed Edelgard places her hands on her hips and looks at the two new arrivals with a deadpan look. “What is going on you two?”

Simultaneously Linhardt and Dorothea start talking over each other to their House leader. Something about ‘being lazy’, ‘not necessary’, ‘trying to help’ and so forth in this blender of disasters from what Claude could make out.

Hubert silences the two with a wave of his two hands. “One at a time.”

Dorothea puffs her chest and starts: “Lin here is capable of learning all forms of magic. I just thought I could get him to learn some reason magic from Professor Hanneman, or even you, Hubie.”

“I said no, but Dorothea here won’t stop pestering me,” Linhardt explains with an unimpressed glance to the former songstress. “Honestly she can’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

The two scramble right up into Edelgard’s personal space, nearly having the smaller Eagle slip from stepping back. They’re acting like children trying to get their mother to side with them.

“So come on, Edie, support me here!” Dorothea goads.

“Please tell her to leave me alone…” Linhardt pleads.

Before Edelgard could think to open her mouth Hubert stood between them with a disappointed expression on his face. If Edelgard is the mother the children are trying to have side with, then Hubert is the father that is crossed and trying to settle them down. The deepest sigh Claude has ever heard from the retainer echoes along the corridor. His head is bowed down in utmost shame, and oh Claude secretly and internally revels in it.

“Do not bother Lady Edelgard with your immaturity; I will deal with you two,” Hubert decrees.

Both complaining Eagles seem satisfied with that outcome. Linhardt ushers Hubert to the dining hall (it is the closest area), while Dorothea clings to the menacing man’s arm to act oh-so grateful that her ‘best friend’ will side with her. As the two drag the sullen and antagonised man around the corner Dorothea looks over her shoulder, smiles cheekily, and winks at Claude before disappearing. Claude straightens at a revelation. Oh… oh so this was all staged for him to be alone with Edelgard. Linhardt was probably unaware of this set-up, but regardless it has worked to the brunette’s favour. He will have to thank Dorothea later, even if that means admitting to her that yes he likes Edelgard.

Speaking of the princess he turns to her. She looks embarrassed about the scene that has occurred with her House members, which earns him a light chuckle. She utters her apologies on their behalf, in which Claude shrugs and mentions that the Golden Deer are a rowdy bunch that he is used to. With that addressed he musters an innocent smile and crosses his arms.

“So there’s only a few months left until graduation,” he begins.

Edelgard nods and purses her lips solemnly. “So there is. Was there something you needed to urgently speak to me about?”

Claude nods back. “The ball is coming up,” he continues, his innocent smile now going crooked. “With how stuck-up you appear, I doubt _anyone_ would wish to go to the ball with you.”

She huffs at his statement. Now she crosses her arms and cocks an eyebrow amusedly at him. “You forget that I have Hubert to take me to the ball.”

Damn it. Claude lets out a hiss of agony, his face contorting as if he had been shot. “Oooh I really, _really_ pity you forcing yourself to go with that retainer of yours. Surely you could ask someone else?”

A coy smile finds itself adorning Edelgard. “And who do you propose I ask?”

Oh he sees what’s going on: neither of the two wants to ask the other to the dance. All right, he can play this little game. 

“Anyone but Hubert,” Claude says with an austere nod. He then watches her face closely and shakes his head in shame. “Come on, Edelgard; I’m sure you would rather go to the ball with someone else.” 

“There is no one I can think of in particular that I wish to go with,” Edelgard explains with a shake of her head. She raises her eyebrows at him. “And what of you, Claude? Is there someone _you_ wish to ask to go to the ball with you?”

He is not going down without a fight. With his award-winning grin he flicks his side braid cockily at her. “Who doesn’t want to go with me? I’m quite the entertaining guy.”

“I do not see any man or woman piling at your feet,” Edelgard remarks dryly with a roll of her eyes. She rubs her chin thoughtfully as her eyes scrutinise him. “It seems you haven’t asked or been asked to the ball with anyone.”

She’s good. He chuckles and shrugs, that charming smile of his flashing pearly whites at her. “Well, what can I say; I like to give a person a chance to ask me out.”

Edelgard hums at this. Claude waves his hand dismissively. “Of course if there is no one to ask me to the ball, then I shall go with Hilda. At least she’ll make it fun.”

“You do realise that we as House leaders are expected to dance with others,” Edelgard states in that dry tone of hers. “So really, there is no need to go out with someone to the ball.”

“But it does make you look likeable and approachable, a sure way to win people’s hearts as a future ruler,” Claude reminds with a wave of his finger. “And depending on who goes with you… well you may earn some bonus points.”

Edelgard flinches with her fingers digging into her arms and oh he has her cornered. There is no way she can use Hubert as an excuse, for the man is the epitome of unlikeable. Not only that but she is a person that is trying to be the perfect future ruler, a person who places the needs of her country over her own. In short she has to ask someone that will make her and Adrestia look good.

Edelgard hums thoughtfully and looks carefully at him. “You bring up fair points. Although I must confess: how people view me is of little concern,” wait, hold up- “When I am emperor I will allow all to mingle amongst each other, regardless of their class, beliefs, and ethnicity. Therefore I shall mingle with whom I please.”

How did this backfire so badly!? Claude tries extremely hard to suppress his smile from hardening even further. “And that ‘whom’ is Hubert…”

“Precisely.”

They nod, looking so forced and animatronic in their movement that it is clear that what conspired between them has not left one or the other in a better scenario. Neither person has won this unnecessary game. Yet alas their prides get the better of them.

Claude can only smile falsely and salute her. “See you at the ball, Princess!”

Edelgard smiles back, equally false and harden. “You too, Schemer.”

Then they walk away. When Claude rounds the corner he grabs his head and lets out the biggest disappointed groan imaginable. Somehow he doesn’t sink against the wall to wallow in self-pity. Fortunately no one was there to witness that disaster. If someone had, then he would not live another day…

* * *

The ball is on.

Glitz and glamour enchants the hall with lights that seem to outshine the sun. Students’ voices echo boisterously as the excitement is contagious amongst them. Even some of the teachers were infected by this ailment, save for the overly-serious Shamir and the lamenting Manuela by an annoyed Hanneman’s shoulder. Whilst students are not wearing any fancy clothing, so to prevent competition among them, their uniform are flawlessly cleaned and make-up on point. Music hums across the area, captivating everyone that comes into its seductive harmonic resonance. The atmosphere is whimsical, incapable of being converted to something dour.

Claude, while appearing suave as always, is internally a mess.

Hilda has been nagging and gawking at him for failing to ask Edelgard to the dance. Clinging to his arm, a bit too tightly for his likening, she continues to scold him amongst the boisterous murmurs, yet his mind it too blank to pay attention. All he could do was utter ‘yes’ and ‘sorry’ to the vehemently disappointed Hilda as the two moved through the crowds. The Golden Deer approached him to share a snack and/or drink, and have a laconic discussion of the day. He noticed that Marianne and Leonie were not among his Deer, which brought a knowing and pleased smile to his face. Emeralds look around for the princess, hoping to catch a glimpse of her looking for him to ask before the dance. But with the amount of tall people it is hard, near impossible, to spot her.

“You better dance with her,” Hilda hisses, shoving aside a student that stood in her way. “Even for just a few minutes…!”

“Come on, Hilda; it isn’t the end of the world if I don’t have a dance with her,” Claude insists with his award-winning smile directed at her.

She elbows his side, looking unimpressed with his answer. “I’m not buying it, _lover boy_,” he cringes at the term, “I’ve never seen you look so devastated with anything.”

Damn she knew him well; she saw how truly despondent he was when he came to her to inform her that he hadn’t asked Edelgard to be his dance partner. He sighs through his clenched pearly whites. Really he shouldn’t be making it such a big deal. He has far more pressing matters to attend to now and in the future. There will be many burdensome tasks to achieve his goal, some even placed upon him now, which will bring misery to him. Yet he has not crumbled under the pressure, nor does he plan to. _This_ is making him feel miserable? Goddess how love affects even the brightest minded of individuals such as he…

Hilda brings him to a halt and points. “There!”

He spots Edelgard.

It is truly incredible that she is walking arm in arm with her ever-menacing retainer. From here he sees how austere and respectable she appears, earning the turn of a few heads and whispers of awe. He doesn’t know if she can see him, not that she is trying to find him, only turning her head slightly to offer curt yet polite nods to other students. When he thinks of how she seems to light up whenever he’s around, how she smiles genuine and true, how she enjoys his presence, although reluctantly so, his heart does flips.

A new tune starts to play. Students divert their attention to the dance floor and to their partner of choice. He sees Hubert usher his mistress to the floor, disappearing into the gathering duos of dancers. Claude darts his eyes around for the princess once more, but alas he cannot see her.

“The dance is about to start!” Hilda warns. As if her eyes locked onto its target her brows light up in glee. “I see Dorothea! No doubt she’ll help me set you two up!”

It is rather peculiar how Hilda believes that she and Dorothea could get along. He has chatted with the former songstress enough to gauge her abhorrence of Hilda’s spoiled brat nature. But it appears that they bond over their mutual desire of trying to set up their House leaders. How… joyous…

Claude spots the professor, and decides that approaching and taking them to the dance floor may give him the chance to dance with Edelgard. He shoots a wink at Hilda, gives a light shove of her shoulder to the direction of the dance floor, and then saunters over to the professor. As everyone make their way with their chosen partner Claude smiles his charismatic smile at the baffled former mercenary. He almost feels bad wrapping Teach into this, but a pawn must be played well. So he drags the clumsy teacher onto the floor, and his complicated game to get to dance with Edelgard begins.

Admittedly he is not a great ballroom dancer. He is not awful enough to draw attention to himself, but if he dances with someone who is trained for this form of dancing they will notice his mishaps. Regardless being with someone who _isn’t_ a dancer at all diverts negative scrutiny to Teach. As the two twirl around he tries to find where the Imperial princess is. He sees Lysithea and Cyril awkwardly trying to dance, but having fun nonetheless, and at that he smiles. Upon another clockwork motion he glances over his shoulder. There! Beside the wacky yet fun dancing partners that are Ferdinand and Caspar is Edelgard dancing with Felix. Claude now looks for his next dance partner to hone in on so that he can get closer and closer to her. Spotting his target he allows Byleth to guide him in an anti-clockwise direction, and then quickly latches to the next dance partner.

He notices how Dorothea, now Edelgard’s current dance partner, is trying to steer her in his direction. Not too far away Hilda is trying to make sure no other person gets a dance with the Imperial princess as she steals them away. His next partner is Ingrid, who utters how she is glad to be with someone other than Sylvain. She is quite the cumbersome critic as she points out his missteps and bad timing with numerous scolds. Fortunately, and perhaps he showed too much delight in it, he moves to his next partner before she could keep him longer.

Unfortunately as he nears Edelgard someone butts in and it is the ecstatic Raphael swinging him off his feet. Claude yelps as the muscular hysterical man twirls him around. The world is spinning around him and he feels he will lose sight of the princess. Some merciful soul saves him from the energetic giant, that wonderful soul being Ignatz. When he moves to his next partner he shoots a grateful look to Ignatz. He owes the artist his life.

How many dancers has he gone through already? Honestly he could care less. But he has to reach Edelgard now, otherwise the music will come to an end along with the ballroom dancing. There will be no other chance to dance with her. It really shouldn’t be a big deal for him, but… He wants to be with her. He steers towards the ever-closing future emperor, emerald eyes narrowed in determination. Hilda and Dorothea steal away anyone that tries to near Claude. He can see her face clearly, every strand of hair and those alluring lilac eyes of hers. He is so close that he can reach her. Almost there… just a few more twirls with his partner… more towards the left… and-

He bumps into Edelgard, and the music stops.

The two look frozen in time with how prepared they were to dance. Upon their faces are startled expressions. They stare into each other’s eyes, as if seeking some guidance. Both are exerted from the multiple partners they had to dance with, as evident by their heaving breaths and beads of sweat. She observes him with a look he could not read. Even if he can’t read her, he knows that deep down she would have loved to have had danced with him. Claude would like nothing more than to sweep her, regardless if there is no music, to hear her musical laughs, see her genuine smile, have their usual yet lovely banters. Alas they cannot. They’re both too proud and secretive to try something out of the norm like dancing without music.

They slowly loosened their holds and back away. Without a word they disappear into the crowds. Claude is an excellent actor, but even he could not supress a sigh or look crestfallen as he left the area.

* * *

The night is beautiful, majestic under the moon’s heavenly glow that cascades the monastery and greenery across the mountains. The air is pleasant on one’s skin, strangely tender to the touch if one is to describe it. Solitude can be quite serene, especially when heightened by the twinkling stars, the moon’s light’s reflection on the lazy clouds, and the fresh air. Claude breathes in deeply as he leans his head back to admire the beauty that is the Goddess Tower. A coy smirk etches against his face. He doesn’t believe the lovey-dovey tales associated with the tower. Just some stories created to set up the romantic mood for people wishing to court.

Still, he can’t deny that it is a beautiful tower. It’s shocking that no one else has come here. Guess they’re all too busy spending time at the ball, or in their rooms to communicate in private their undying love. Perhaps doing naughty things against the teachings of the saintly Seiros. The thought brings a stupidly amused grin to his face. It soothes his dampened soul after not having a dance with Edelgard. Maybe that’s why he came to this tower, hoping that its superstitious ‘love magic’ can bestow him the chance to confess his feelings to her. Really he’s being stupid, beyond so… but one can hope for miracles. Goddess love really rules out logic…

“I didn’t expect to find you here.”

Turning to the source he sees the very princess come to a halt before him. She seems equally startled as he is to see her here. He smiles fondly at her, his crinkled eyes matching the ignition of mirth that consumes him. His affectionate gaze shifts into an amused grin that is heightened by his hands behind his head.

“Did you come here hoping that the Goddess Tower will bestow upon you your perfect lover?” He inquires and winks at her.

Edelgard lets out a dry laugh. She smiles, genuinely, not the façade of someone needing to be polite, and moves a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. There is a reminiscing look in her eyes, crinkled as if recalling a pleasant memory as she looks over to the mighty tower.

“My father told me that he met my mother at this very tower,” she tells. “Said that it was love at first sight for him.”

At that he cocks an eyebrow, and he could not hold back a snicker. “You believe in those tales?”

Edelgard shakes her head. “No, but it is a touching story.”

Ah so she’s a hopeless romantic at heart. Surprisingly the realisation doesn’t make him burst out laughing. With anyone else he would have cackled maniacally at how silly they’re being. But with Edelgard it is… strangely endearing. Actually there are plenty of oddly endearing qualities of the white haired girl. From her secretly gorging on sweets whenever someone wasn’t around, to how she always pets the monastery cats and dogs (in some cases bringing them to her dorm when it rains) and even to those ribbons that clash with her regal image.

His gaze follows her to the Goddess Tower. A devious idea sprouts from his mind. With a smirk he turns to Edelgard with twinkling glee flashing from his pearly whites and emerald eyes. Sensing him she turns to him with raised eyebrows of wonder. He wiggles his eyebrows in challenge.

“Want to break into the Goddess Tower?” 

Edelgard shuts her eyes, barks out a few chuckles and shakes her head in droll amusement. She looks up at him and smiles a rare mischievous one. “Why am I not surprised by your offer,” she waves her hand to the direction of the runway to the tower. “Lead the way, Schemer.”

Pleased Claude grabs her hand and drags her towards the tower. The entrance isn’t blocked very well; it only requires some manpower to remove the boards. The two teenagers remove them carefully and quickly, and once more Claude grabs Edelgard’s hands to lead her. Echoes of footsteps ring across the spiralling stairway, soon followed by some ringing chuckles. When he glances behind him he is mesmerised by how jubilant Edelgard looks. It paints a pink blush against his cheeks, in which he quickly turns away from her before she could notice. They eventually reach the rooftop of the tower, where the stars seem closer and the air much fresher. The two stare up, enamoured by how stunning the night sky looks and how tranquil the atmosphere is up here. Cliché as the term sounds: it really looks like they could touch the sky and bring the stars down.

They turn to each other and grin in mutual understanding that they broke the rules and are rewarded with this picturesque night. It quickly dawns on them that they’ve been holding hands, in which they instantly let go and look away from each other. Claude looks over at Edelgard with fondness evident in his eyes and his mouth slightly agape as his breath is taken away. She looks stunning under the moonlight, the celestial object complimenting her white hair and lilac eyes, making her glow like some divine figure. That smile though is beyond divine, and oh he has never felt this way about anyone. Upon staring at her he feels some sudden burst of courage to ask her for a dance. This will be his only chance for a dance and possible confession, and there will never be a more perfect opportunity than just the two of them under a sky made for them.

When Edelgard turns to him he bows and offers a hand to her. With his most genuine smile and warmest expression that the master of deception can have he kindly offers, “May I have this dance, Edelgard?”

She regards his hand for a split second, and then takes it with an equally tender expression. Somehow his smile grows, seemingly beyond the limits of his face. They come closer and adjust to their size difference and positioning. With his hand on her waist and her hands on his shoulder and hand they start their dance. It is slow, much slower than the standard ballroom dancing, considering that he is no expert. If she is discomforted by his lack of experience she does not show it; she takes the lead without word. Their eyes dart around the rooftop to be sure that they will not accidentally waltz off to their deaths. Eventually though, after a few calculated spins and internal measurements, they grew comfortable to simply stare at each other.

The fire in her eyes flicker like a pleasant fireplace under the celestial white glows of the stars and moon. Her pallor skin, once something he presumed something extremely unhealthy looking, stood out like the finest carved marble. The way she looks at him makes him feel like some blessing to her, and his cheeks glow red as the warmth of love consumes his being. Their dance grows more intimate as they further close the gap until they are in an embrace and slow dancing. Her hold of him, although awkward due to her being so unused to physical intimacy, is so considerate of her strength that it warms him.

With his chin on her shoulder he can smell lavender: the flower has become associated with her.

“You know…” He whispers against her ear, as if speaking any louder will attract everyone’s attention to the two atop the tower. “…I actually wanted to invite you as my dance partner.”

He feels her straighten up at the news. But she doesn’t push him away or scoff amusedly at his unusual sentimentality. She presses the side of her face against his left shoulder. “I… too wanted to ask you to come to the dance with me.”

That murmured confession causes his breath to hitch. His ears burn, yet somehow he remains composed. Both stare at each other, incredulous about what they had confessed. The usually neutral faced individuals are blushing bashfully at how they came across. After realising how long they have been dancing for, and how exhausted they are from dancing with so many other students prior, they finish and gently pull away from each other. Edelgard then turns towards the ledge of the rooftop and moves to it. There she sits with legs dangling over the ledge. Claude joins her to her left. They stare up at the sky to once again admire the exposed beauty of the night.

Their quiet time together reminds him of the reality of how limited their time truly is. Claude feels his brows lightly furrow at that realisation. The time to address it is now.

“We only have a few months left of graduation.”

Edelgard lets out a mellow hum. There is a lengthy pause. “Yes…”

Claude swallows and tries to play all composed and not some nervous teenager. “Funny as this may sound, what with how exciting this year has been, I’m going to miss a lot of people.”

He inhales sharply and looks over to Edelgard. His tense facial muscles loosen. “And… I’m going to miss you the most.”

Edelgard turns to him with dubious disbelief. He hopes his expression informs her that he is serious. She lets out a smile when she realises how genuine he is, and oh that fond look makes his heart want to leap out of his confined chest. Her head ducks down bashfully when pink adorns her cheeks.

“Dubious as it may sound… I will miss you the most too.”

She likes him. He knows with utmost certainty that she feels the same way he does to her. That thought nearly ascends his soul to the next plane of existence. Instantaneously the two look and notice that their hands had been against each other during their entire time sitting here. To his surprise, and perhaps hers, neither pull away. Instead he uses his index finger to gently tap against her gloved hand. They then look up and stare into each other’s eyes. When did they get so close? When did they have the opportunity to let out a breath that would tickle the other’s face? Emerald on lilac. Facades completely discarded. The air electrifying with the feeling of love. Both love each other; there is nothing more factual and beautiful than that.

“You are… something special, Edelgard,” Claude acknowledges in a whisper.

“You too are… quite special, Claude,” Edelgard affirms quietly.

As if pulled by some magnetic force the two find themselves leaning in. Claude slowly closes his eyes and tilts his head, ready for the kiss, ready for the outpour of repressed feelings and ready to be hers.

But no lips meet. Nothing meets.

Opening his eyes he sees how Edelgard recoils back. She looks mortified as to what she was about to do. “We…” She pauses and bites her lips. Before Claude could open his mouth she shoots up to a stand and turns away “… we must leave before anyone notices that we are gone.”

He’s had enough.

She either admits that she likes him and tells him that they mustn’t pursue this relationship, or she pretends she feels nothing for him and drag out this unbearable pining between them. This has to end some way. He can go on with the acknowledgement that she loves him but cannot pursue this relationship. They both can. But prolonging it and running away has become too frustrating; acting as if it is nothing has become only damaging to their relationship. After all the honesty between them and the wonderful times together he doesn’t want it all to crumble away. He wants to preserve their relationship, even if it can only stay at friendship.

Before she can walk off he carefully takes her hand. She turns to him with a storm waging across her face, reflecting her conflicted thoughts. “Stop denying your feelings and tell me how you feel!” Claude demands with a pleading look.

She plays dumb. “What are you-?”

_I love you._

“I like you…” Claude says through gritted teeth.

_I love you_.

His grip tightens on her hand as he looks down. “In fact I really like you.” When he lifts his head his eyes blaze with certainty. “And I know you like me like that too.”

Edelgard retracts her hand from his and shakes her head. “You are misreading me.”

“No, I’m not,” Claude says with a firm edge in his tone. “Just tell me how you feel about me, truthfully, and then we can address… us.”

Once more she appears vehemently conflicted. He understands that she wants to pursue political and societal matters, to not give into how she feels. Oh how he relates to her. That is precisely why she needs to be open about her feelings. Her expression settles on something that appears too sullen even for someone like Edelgard. It’s so pained that he feels his resolve diminish. 

“There is no us.”

With that said she makes her leave, all slouched posture and despondent of someone that regrettably made a decision. When she disappears Claude turns away, clenches his fists, and lets out a frustrated shout towards the night. He clutches his face and growls sombrely to himself. Way to ruin this beautiful relationship… 

* * *

**A/N: Happy times!**


	15. Can A Opportunity be Made?

**A/N: Wha-what do you mean this story nearly has 5000 views? I... holy... thank you all so much for even just clicking on this! I most likely won't write the next chapter till August, as July 8th-14th is Edelclaude Week!**

**'anon': You raise valuable points that I use 'marble' too much. As for jewels I don't think so; 'emerald' can be defined as a colour.**

**'Telsiree': Thank you! I wanted to balance the kind-hearted qualities of Dimitri with his more sinister traumatic side. One can't just pick one quality and exaggerate it!**

**'JohnnyAppleShy': Dorothea and Hilda are too busy pairing their House leaders to search for love themselves ha, ha!**

* * *

For two weeks they haven’t spoken.

They have not played any board games together, shared a cup of tea with sweets and other meals, nor have they made room for idle chat. Every time he tried to look for her she would walk away with that hardened expression of hers. When bringing the concoctions to assist her in her sleep she just took it and closed the door before he could open his mouth to breathe. Whenever he tried attracting her attention, be that through shooting an arrow in her range at the Training Grounds or ‘accidentally’ dropping a book from the shelf she was looking at in the library, she left without a word. No doubt every letter he sent to her room has been thrown away or burnt to a crisp. Soon enough he grew so exasperated by this charade that he stopped all together. As future sovereign, and someone investigating what the Church is hiding, he has far more pressing matters to attend to.

There was only one incident in which they ‘spent’ time together. When he had heard students speaking that Lysithea collapsed from coughing blood he bolted to the infirmary. Upon entering he was greeted by the sight of Edelgard checking Lysithea’s temperature. When the two made eye contact he felt as if the air from their lungs had disappeared and left them breathless. Fortunately, being mature when needed, they nodded in understanding and he went to sit by the princess so she could fill in on what happened. The two worked with Manuela to treat the smallest student; Claude knew of Almyran (although he did not say) remedies to treat fevers. Even when the physician left to gather some materials, Edelgard meticulously instructed Claude what to use and how to apply it to cure the bedridden girl. Edelgard seemed to know exactly what was wrong and how to treat Lysithea, but he knew not to pry. Once Lysithea was to be left alone the two House leaders left after expressing their gratitude in taking care of the magical prodigy.

Now Jeralt was murdered by Monica, or whoever posing as Monica, leaving the entire Academy in a state of mourning. The Professor, someone seemingly incapable of sorrow, drowned in self-isolation to deal with the reality that their father, their only family, is gone. Many students respected their boundary, with some leaving messages and gifts at the teacher’s office’s doorstep. Most likely those very sympathetic students, had they known, would scold or spit in vehement disgust towards Claude having come to them to retrieve their deceased father’s journal instead of comforting his teacher. Perhaps the timing is most unfortunate, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass. Anything to figure out what secrets are going with the Church, and possibly these mysterious individuals, is worth pursuing even during sombre times.

Walking down the hall with the very journal in hand his emerald eyes scan the entries one last time. He has read the entirety of it and has written stuff of interest to him, so he now wishes to return it to Jeralt’s old office. Honestly there isn’t too much revealing content. The elements of interest: Jeralt, most intriguingly, is terrified of the Archbishop; the very same man caused the Church fire 21 years ago; that the Teach is… anything but normal even from birth, and that the Archbishop had some strange almost possessive relationship with Jeralt’s wife and the soon-to-be born child. Reading these facts only heightens his already cautious and suspicious nature by seemingly an infinite amount. If only he could produce multiple copies of this journal and spread it across Fódlan to expose the questionable elements the Church has, and is, conducting. But alas his word is nothing, not even a spec, against the Church. Even so, once he has the power to do so, he will secretly investigate the matters and subtly push for secular rule. Pity that he can’t share these thoughts with Edel-

“You take that back!”

Coming to a halt Claude looks up from the journal. Before him in the hall is a number of Black Eagles pitted against some students. Caspar seems enraged by something said, judging by the growl and fists raised, and Ferdinand trying to hold him back. Hubert, even with an imposing expression that seems inbuilt into him, has his eyebrow narrowed faintly to enhance what appeared to be anger. The non Black Eagles students didn’t seem like the typical bullies; no, they looked intimidated and fretful as their eyes darted around and their teeth bit down on their lips.

“But you can’t deny that Monica, or whoever that was, kept spending time with Edelgard!” One student insisted with a shake of his head. “Surely you understand our suspicions?”

Yes… Another thing to have arisen from Jeralt’s death is paranoia. The previous cautionary miasma that spread across the academy from the reveal that Tomas was an impersonator has grown exceptionally to the point that is suffocates all. Everyone has now become suspicious of whom they talk to, what to talk about, and whether they truly know the person or not. He’s heard stories from Hilda that even the Knights of Seiros appear awkward around each other, as if at any unexpected moment one of their brothers in arms will attack. It is extremely pitiful, although from the enemies’ end genius, to be so tense around every person in and out the academy. Sure he is a boy of utmost caution, one with a history of trust issues that burdens him from forming genuine bonds, but even he, Claude von Riegan, knows when distrusts can grow ridiculously paranoid.

On top of that he has seen how exasperated Edelgard was whenever Monica came to her. He could tell that she wasn’t all too comfortable with the girl. Even when he spoke of his suspicions of her the princess confirmed that there are plenty of unsettling changes to her old friend. Heck even Hubert despised the girl more than he despises him! One may think that he is being too uncharacteristically lenient with Edelgard due to his… relationship with her. Perhaps he is, but at the same time perhaps he isn’t. No one suspected Tomas of anything, and he acted accordingly normal in comparison to Monica. Anyone could be an imposter.

“Are you saying that she had something to do with Jeralt’s death!?” Caspar barks out accusingly, almost breaking out of Ferdinand’s hold on him.

“Well, maybe-”

Before Caspar could lunge and land a blow on the accuser Dimitri stepped in between the arguing students. “That’s enough!”

Everyone grew silent and turned their attention to the prince. The blue House leader looked to all present, even those minding their business, with a stern yet not unkind look in his blue eyes and furrowed blond brows. With a sigh Dimitri stands tall and looks across everyone with a glint indicating that he is about to make some rousing speech.

“We do not have any facts to back the claim that Edelgard knew what Monica was planning,” he begins. Even though Claude thinks Dimitri is too kind to be a ruler, he still knows how to draw people into his domain. “On top of that we must not forget about Tomas, or rather Solon, whom interacted with high Church officials and students such as us. With that logic are we not all potential impersonators?”

Murmurs of reluctant agreement echo through the hall. Whilst it isn’t wise for him to get too involved with others Claude smiles oh-so charmingly as he steps to the prince’s side.

“Dimitri is right,” he claims, earning a startled glance from the blond boy. Claude waves the journal in the air in a ‘here, here’ manner. “These imposters want us to be at each other’s throats so that they have a better opportunity to strike us. If we give into our paranoia then they will infiltrate the academy and eliminate whomever they wish.”

Those who were hesitant to admit that the prince had fair points now straighten up and look apologetically towards the Black Eagles and others. A few murmurs of agreement and the determination to not let the enemy win grow boisterous that it drowns out all and every thought. The once agitated Caspar voices aloud that they must not allow the enemies to weaken them, and Ferdinand chips in that everyone must work together to eliminate this common threat. Dimitri voices that the Blue Lions will gladly assist in investigating and working with students of the other Houses, being the virtuous and genuine person he is. With everything addressed and said Claude silently leaves the brimming resolve that courses through the present students to once again head to Jeralt’s office.

* * *

Flipping back and forth between pages, all the while glancing up to be sure he is walking on the right track, Claude is confident that there is no secret message(s) within the journal. It makes sense, considering Jeralt kept this journal after leaving the Church. Everything before the fire details the famous captain’s lovey-dovey nature around the woman Sitri, love-struck words that make him roll his eyes… and feel a pang of sorrow when thinking of his own personal feelings. As for information about after the fire… a few intriguing titbits on the Teach being inhuman with their lack of emotions. There is no reason to keep the journal anymore, and he did promise Teach that he’d return it. It is probably the only personal belonging of their father. Best to have them own it as a keepsake.

Upon entering the office he freezes.

Someone from the window frame turns to him and halts.

Both figures seem as if petrified to stone, perfectly preserved for archaeologists to study them and take to showcase to the world. Scandalise is registered across the two teenagers’ faces: raised eyebrows, slightly agape mouth, and wide eyes. Neither blink as they continue to stare in perpetual silence, the suffocating miasma leaving them breathless and unable to utter a word. Their postures are tense, so much so that it would be near impossible for anyone to lift a limb to move them. With how long they are staring unblinking their eyes dry faster than the sun upon a lake. Claude feels his ears ringing, drowning out any sound in the corridor. It only dawns on him that the door closed behind him on its own. He sees something crawl against the insides of the girl’s pallor throat: an inaudible gulp. Neither wish to admit or truthfully acknowledge that they’re terrified and anxious to be around each other.

They blink, once, the first step to breaking out of this spell. Claude rolls the bottom of his lips to salivate his dry lips. Edelgard knits her brows tightly to break free her forehead muscles. Both tap their fingers against a surface: Claude with the journal, and Edelgard with the window frame. Neither are planning to retreat; it is not in their characters to do so at this moment. 

“Claude,” she greets with a solemn and respectful nod, as if she never was in some unbearable trance from before.

“Edelgard,” Claude replies, internally wincing at how hardened he looks and how his pet name for her has vanished from his vocabulary.

“I came here to seek clues regarding if Jeralt has or had any connection to these enigmatic enemies, or rather what these people want with his child.” She tears away from his eyes to look at the journal. “Seems like you acquired something...”

He nods and lifts up the journal to her line of sight. If their relationship was anything like before the ball then he would have grinned his charming pearly whites and wink knowingly at her. Instead he waits quietly for her to approach to have a better look at the book. She doesn’t even glance at his face, still refusing to make eye contact. Not that he is any better; he blanks out as he looks at the journal.

“Teach lent me Jeralt’s journal,” he clarifies. He bites the insides of his cheeks to search for his next words. _Come on… you used to talk with her so easily. _“It has a number of interesting things that make the Church look even shadier… as unbelievable as that sounds.”

Damn, even his jokes fall flat. Glancing up he sees Edelgard giving a nod, but she still doesn’t risk looking up at him.

“I presume you wrote these interesting elements down before thinking of returning the journal,” she says as a statement: pointless, really, making a remark to something that she knows the answer to. Better than remaining awkwardly quiet.

_Share your notes. Try to connect again. _He inhales sharply and looks through lightly furrowed eyebrows at her. “I’m happy to share my notes with you.”

This is an offer she can’t refuse. Her disdain for the Church is unfathomable in comparison to him, and overshadows any other thoughts or desires she has. Knowing how pragmatic she is he knows that there is no way she can let this down. Even the pig-headed girl knows when to concede defeat to further her goals.

Through sharing they may slowly reconnect as friends. Nothing will ever be the same, but at least they can resume cordiality with each other. Being and remaining as friends is better than having no relationship at all. That is perhaps all he could ask for… though greedy and hungry he is for something more intimate.

“Perhaps you can lend me the journal here so I can skim read and write some notes later,” Edelgard suggests, even if her tone sounds vaguely sullen by the prospect of this idea.

Once again she is trying not to get closer to him, not to develop this any further than deemed appropriate. He knows he should agree to this, share in the mutual understanding that they can’t be in a romantic relationship. Yet… and yet he wants to pursue this, even if for just a few months. To be secret school sweethearts, though corny as it sounds, for the last months without the burden of expectations will benefit them, he knows this. This past fortnight has shown him how despondent he is pretending that he is fine, that they mustn’t enjoy this taboo for the finite time they have, and ignoring it will fester it more and more. He wants to spend this time with her, oh how he craves this valued time limit.

Quickly he places the journal on the desk, and gently takes one of Edelgard’s hands. He stares at her intently, into her soul, beseeching her honesty and to be open about her feelings for once. “Edelgard, listen…”

Conflict dances across her face just like at the tower. Before she could think of pulling away he continues, softly yet with conviction, “I want to spend time with you as…” He purses his lips, tongue-tied. He clicks his tongue at how corny he will sound. “… as secret school sweethearts.”

Edelgard shakes her head and looks at him with an expression that is trying to mask her forlorn dismay with solemn unwavering acceptance. “I told you: there is no us.”

“Not in the long run,” Claude quickly and laconically corrects, shaking her hand to ease his nerves. His expression softens so much that it makes Edelgard’s stern resolve weaken, and he can imagine being in her shoes thinking that he is being so unfairly soft.

“Which is why I want to spend the last few months together with you in secret. After graduation we sever ties, and only see each other as political allies or rivals.”

The princess retracts her hand from his hold and glares trenchantly at him. Flames dance across her eyes, a bushfire threatening to consume him. “You are being foolish…! What part of ‘there is no us’ do you not understand!?”

The embers from her anger rub on him. “What are you so afraid of?”

White eyebrows knit tighter. “I am not afraid of any-”

The frustration and confusion crescendos in his tone: “Why are you denying yourself happiness? I know you enjoy my company, so it isn’t me, then why-”

“_Because you’re a good person that I don’t deserve!_”

Wait… come again…?

All and any semblance of heated emotions vanishes between the two. The once tense, almost battle-ready, posture of Claude alleviates as he stares gobsmacked by what he has heard. Edelgard bites her lips upon realisation of what she revealed, and then looks away ashamed of herself and her actions. Melancholic sorrow embellishes her face, and then that agony spreads to her posture to make her slouch with unspeakable shame. Claude cannot recall ever seeing the princess look this vulnerable, this meek, before him. Her sharing to him about her nightmares doesn’t even compare or come close. He could swear that he hears her teeth clattering.

Him… a good person? How laughable, how _utterly ridiculous_, to be considered one. He’s done plenty of things that many would deem terrible, shady, and apathetic. He has killed men without second thought, poisoned people he suspected of trying to assassinate him with a devilish smile, and stood by when fights broke out to judge how to do well in a fight. In comparison to other people around the academy, and of course the hundreds of others in Fódlan, he is anything but a good person. 

He snorts in droll amusement, although his hardened features contrast with it. “Me? A good person? Have you forgotten that I make poisons and create schemes-”

“You do not realise how kind you are,” Edelgard interrupts firmly but not unkindly. Once again she looks defeated, accepting of her fate. A rueful smile etches against her. “You’re too good for me.”

Emerald eyes soften in tune to his facial features. He doesn’t want this fight to erupt. “I think I should be the judge of that,” Claude rebuttals softly, completely unconvinced with her answer.

She opens her mouth to argue, only for it to clamp shut when she reluctantly acknowledges that he made a fair point. Using her uncertainty to his advantage he once again took her hand and gently thumbed the gloved palm. With her head craned up he once again looks pass her austere complexion to see how she is truly feeling: frightened by the prospect of being in a relationship. He completely understands her fears: he too, although wanting to pursue it for a short time, is scared about being this open, this happy with someone. The thought of easing his paranoia around someone causes him to audibly gulp. Edelgard appears to notice, judging by her line of sight, but says nothing as she look at him in realisation, and then mutual understanding. Cautiously she thumbs his hand and gives it a tentative squeeze as if to reassure him that she understands.

He thinks of his next words as he watches the conflict within her soul. It is a miracle that she hasn’t walked out. Perhaps it is the fear of uncertainty and the tiredness of dancing around the matter of ‘us’ that keeps her in place. A few times she appears to wish to say something, only to remain silent to ponder about what is the right course of action.

“Just… please consider spending the last months together as a couple in secret,” Claude pleads, not wishing to push her, but also not wanting her to dismiss him. “It… It would make me the happiest guy to be with you.”

That’s all he wanted to say.

Deciding to give her the space to think he lets go of her hand and turns to make his leave.

“Alright.”

He comes to a halt with wide eyes, an agape mouth, and eyebrows shot up to his forehead. His heart stopped beating for a second.

Startled and incredulous by what he heard he turns to Edelgard. The princess, with arms crossed, lets out a sigh of defeat; she surrenders her pragmatism to pursue his proposal. It would appear that not even her pride can suppress her feelings and desires.

Edelgard looks away with knitted eyebrows of self-disappointment. “I know I shouldn’t do this, that I shouldn’t be with you, but…” She looks over at him, eyes glimmering and a pink blush against her cheeks. “…but I would like to spend the last remaining time with you…”

At that acknowledgement Claude feels his cheeks light up as if fireflies gathered upon them, and his smile reaches to impossible heights. Oh how boyish he feels with his dorky look towards the solemn yet secretly pleased girl. The temptation to scoop up the princess is almost overpowering for him. But he remains composed, instead allowing his smile, which hurts upon his face at how wide it is and how it refuses to go away, to inform Edelgard how he feels. Perhaps unbeknownst to the ‘reluctant’ princess a light gleeful smile creaks against her face, crinkling her lilac eyes and making her look softer than she would like to appear.

“Okay then!” Claude beams with a nod. Sudden nerves consume him, and his cheeks turn red. He bashfully scratches the back of his head. “I… I will see you around then!” 

With that addressed he opens the door and leaves. His hand lingers on the handle as his thoughts spiral out of control as to what had occurred. Edelgard has agreed to spend time with him in secret, as a couple. Although uncertain, and having a history of being cautious around others and fearful of opening up to people, she wants to spend time with him. They both want to be a secretive couple, even with their issues of intimacy. She likes him, as he her.

Somehow suppressing his whoops of rapturous joy he leaves the area with an unsubtle jubilant grin adorning his face and crinkled eyes of genuine delight to match his pearly whites and a glow that seems to surround him. 

* * *

They have become a secret couple.

The day after Claude left some treats at a certain princess’ door, where he knocked and waited with a cat-like grin when she opened it to see him and a tray of sweets at his feet. She snorted amusedly, picked up the tray, told him with a droll smile to leave before Hubert finds him, and went back in. Hearing her delightful snort and seeing her smile is an excellent wake-up call for the tanned boy.

Sometimes when he is studying in the library the history of the Church, and anything that could answer his questions, Edelgard walks by and places a cup of Almyran pine on the table without a word. It never fails to bring a smile to his face. When she’s feeling extra generous, and when there is no one to bear witness, she sits with him and shares some lokum. Exchange of gossip and laughter can sometimes be the only things heard in the entire library. 

When they had chores to do, such as cooking, he would offer her to try his meals. Edelgard always enjoys tasting the meal, even when it sometimes powdered her nose with flour. The sight of it made him giggle. He would lick the pad of his thumb and use it to clean the flour off her nose. The embarrassed red blush across her cheeks made his heart swoon to the celestial plain. She would scold and remind him to be discreet, although that isn’t hard when Bernadetta is in the corner paying them no heed to attend to her private cooking.

Gardening usually meant they had to be discreet, especially when it was constantly taken care of by the _de facto_ owner Dedue. But that didn’t stop Edelgard from crafting a flower crown (her youngest sister had taught her how to do it she told him) and placing it atop his scalp with a glint of pride in her eyes. He’d play a game of being the king of the garden, and later, when she grew accustomed to being more playful, she would join in and act as his humble margrave.

During a House leaders meeting, when the three discussed how to comfort the Professor and deal with these enigmatic foes, Claude held onto Edelgard’s hand from under the table. He made the gall to pry aside her glove so that he could feel her skin, calloused and all, to showcase that he cares for her regardless. To his delight she not only allowed him to, but she also returned the hold. No doubt she is feeling some sort of serenity. Both remained inconspicuous and unfazed; to the oblivious Dimitri they look nothing like a couple. 

No one suspects them being a thing, save for those who already knew like Hilda, Dorothea, Lysithea and, no doubt and to his utmost dismay, Hubert. His best friend was over the moon for him, having nearly squealed at the top of her lungs about how he and Edelgard have finally started dating. Hilda further gave advice on how he should conduct his dates, many of which sounded too bombastic to work for a secretive couple. Regardless he appreciated her advice. Whenever he approached Edelgard with Dorothea by her side the brunette would whisper something to her best friend, giggle too sweetly, and saunter to him, whisper something to him, and then leave the two uncharacteristically bashful. Dorothea is… blunter than Hilda when it comes to how to date someone. As for Lysithea: the girl let out an exasperated groan when she saw him and Edelgard pretending they weren’t resting on each other’s side under a tree. 

Neither have confessed or initiated a kiss. Honestly Claude doesn’t mind, for he simply relishes in the company of Edelgard. Of course he would like to admit his feelings, but he still isn’t so sure on how to do it or when. Slowly and gradually the once unsure Edelgard, the once reluctant initiator of this relationship, began to loosen around him and be reciprocal with affection. Still she is not quite ready to confess. Neither of them will ever place their heart on their sleeve, but that doesn’t stop them from sharing interests, gossip, and affection. The time will come when one or the other is confident and open enough to confess. For now though they both relish their private time.

* * *

Now Teach has become god.

Honestly Claude should stop being so surprised with his professor.

Normally he would be fussing about a new mystery: catechising Teach, researching at the library, (possibly spying on Church faculty), and so forth. But now, after working together with Edelgard and Dimitri to tackle Kronya and Solon, his priorities are with the princess’ injuries. Technically she’s recovered from Manuela’s care, as he and everyone who participated in Teach’s revenge has, but she had to take a day or two off in the comfort of her room. During the outing, with he atop Basma and her planning to secretly ambush Kronya from the forest, Edelgard received a nasty slice to her side. Seems these enigmatic individuals’ weapons can even pierce the mightiest armour. Of course being the pig-headed and strong girl she is Edelgard persevered throughout the entire fight, which no doubt exasperated her injuries further. Pragmatically speaking it was stupid of her to push herself… but her strength is something he loves about her.

Back to the present he notices Hubert making his leave from Edelgard’s room. Taking it as an opportunity to speak to the pallor girl he leaves from his hiding spot that is the doorframe of his room and nonchalantly saunters to the other House leader’s room. There he enters and sees her, clad in her white sleepwear, sitting against the headboard.

A deadpan expression crosses her. “Hubert will return you know.”

He shrugs innocently and grins mischievously at her. “He can’t murder me here, otherwise he would be the most obvious suspect.” His grin turns soft and loving. “Besides, he wouldn’t want to upset his mistress by killing her boyfriend.”

Boyfriend… it is still a word that he can’t quite grasp using, nor can she, judging by her flinch at the endearing term. Edelgard still hasn’t uttered the word ‘girlfriend’, nor called him ‘boyfriend’, most likely due to her believing it is pointless with how short-lived their relationship is to be. He completely understands, as he felt the same with the use of ‘boyfriend’ (he was the one to coin it), but it leaves him in high spirits and seemingly tricks him into thinking that they will always be a couple.

He walks over to the bed and sits at the edge. One of his hands fishes through his trousers’ pocket to obtain a vial of crushed leaves. His opposite hand fetches a bag containing chocolate pieces that he traded with Lysithea for books on Almyra.

“This vial contains an Almyran remedy that I have read about in one of my books,” Claude explains as he dangles the vial of green liquid in front of her. A sly smirk crosses his face. “Making medicine is no different from making poisons.”

Edelgard snorts at his claim and allows a droll smile to cross her. “Only you would know how to do those sort of things, Schemer.”

“And yet you take my word that this is medicine, Princess,” Claude jests. Honestly he prefers calling her ‘Princess’ over ‘girlfriend’. It seems exclusive to her, as ‘Schemer’ is to him. He then wiggles his eyebrows. “Perhaps I am trying to poison you.”

At that she cocks a white eyebrow. “After bringing a bag of sweets for me? It seems you must feel conflicted about whether you wish to kill me or not.”

“Maybe the sweets are for me? You’re not the only one who can enjoy sweets, Princess.”

“Yet as I recall you are not fond of them.”

They both chuckle at their unusual antics that to most people really isn’t that funny. Hearing her hearty laughs, not the kind that are tailored to woo or satisfy someone, and seeing the way her cheeks crinkle fondly and not furrow with annoyance, always warms him.

He grows serious as he continues his explanation of the medicine: “You rub it on your injury, allow it to sink in, and then apply a new set of bandages. It’ll burn, badly, but allegedly it works.”

She utters her gratitude as she takes the vial and sets it aside her lamp desk. After placing it she tries to reach the bag of sweets, only for him to retract it from her. She grumbles, and he comments how if she were taller she would have longer arms to reach.

“Here I lay injured, yet you still mock my height,” Edelgard sighs in agitation, although it is faux and in humour, and she shakes her head. A tiny smile adorns her. “Yet somehow I still tolerate and like your presence.”

Claude smiles affectionately at how fond she sounds of him, how she is now open enough to admit that she does like him. “Your height makes you adorable, Princess.”

Oh no… oh no he wasn’t meant to admit that he finds it adorable…! It was one of the only things he likes about her that he was meant to keep a secret! It was one of the only things that he can mock her for because it garners amusing reactions from her! Red taints his cheeks at how humiliated he feels, and looking at her he sees that she is no better with how gobsmacked and red she appears. Her mouth opens and her eyebrows knit to rebuttal that she is not adorable, only for her to let out strained sounds. Although still red cheeked he lights up and his eyes glint in mischievous delight and realisation. Oh so she hates being called adorable~! Well, funnily enough for her, those angered reactions to being called as such make her even cuter!

Edelgard groans in vehement frustration and chucks the bear stuffy from under the duvet at his face. “I will inform Hubert of your intrusion!”

Laughing like a sinister mad man he throws the bag of treats at her chest, and then gallivants out of the room to prance down the corridor to the stairway, pass a bemused Hubert. 

* * *

“How does it look?”

Edelgard looks up from her drawing to scrutinise Claude’s one. She tilts her head, lips pursed as she thinks how to explain, and points her charcoal stick at some parts. “Try to make your features not so geometrical; the nose isn’t just a triangle attached to the face.”

Claude glances down at the picture, and then up at Edelgard’s face, and back at his drawing. Upon realising what she means he clicks his tongue and gives her the thumbs up. “Got it.”

Edelgard was curious as to whether he would be interested in drawing, and had asked him four days ago if he would like to learn from her. He never had much time to sketch as a child, having been more focused on learning from books and how to read people to judge their true character. Art has always fascinated him though; sometimes he would watch a royal painter sketch the viziers and be awed at how the painter captured not just their looks but also their mood. Having developed deft fingers from training with the bow and arrows, and developing keen eyesight from riding atop Basma through the humid skies of Almyra, the royal painter had commented that he could make for a promising artist. Still he focussed on honing on more pressing matters, matters that would benefit him as a ruler and a unifier of two conflicting countries. 

Having started these art lessons four days ago (sure, he could have gone to Ignatz…) he finds it quite… exhilarating? It isn’t the best word to describe his feelings for drawing: he likes how he has to use his brain to think of how to draw the lines, how much shading to apply, all the while finding it relaxing, like it is some board game. Thinking of all these elements when drawing never tires or antagonises him, rather it reinvigorates him and pushes him to improve. That is the sort of thing he can enjoy: something with multiple layers, which rewards him from looking at all the nooks and crannies.

He enjoys the silence and the opportunities to look and watch Edelgard’s face. He drinks in the details, sipping here and there so that he can relish in it. Sometimes he’s too distracted to draw because of her. The concentrated glower that furrows her white eyebrows, the purse of the Cupid’s bow that is her lips, the fluttering of eyelashes whenever she is displeased with something, the dangling lilac ribbons that flinch whenever she shoots up with success, every little detail soothes him. He wants to be sure to capture these details as best as he can as an upcoming amateur artist.

“You’re staring at me,” Edelgard remarks, her attention still honed on the drawing.

“Only because I’m trying to capture your features,” Claude spouts. He then grins haughtily when he looks down and resumes drawing. “Besides, you’re one to talk; you had been staring at my face for five minutes yesterday.”

“Only because I’m trying to capture your features,” Edelgard parrots, earning an amused snort from Claude. “Your hair is hard to draw.”

Claude giggles stupidly at the claim, and then lightly scolds at smudging the charcoal. He tries to get an upper hand of her by throwing some scrunched notes he made in class at her head. She threw it back at his drawing, once more causing him to smudge the charcoal. Oh he noticed her triumphant smirk when he pouted as he picked up his drawing. After some time the two finish. He gestures to Edelgard to share her drawing first. She obliges and turns it to him. Behold is a picture of him grinning from ear to ear, eyes closed in mirth, looking youthful and happy to be free. He then shows her his, which is… not the same quality. He doesn’t quite understand proportions or how to shade; he probably unintentionally made her forehead too big and her cheeks not as protruded. Drawing hair is a mystery to him.

But Edelgard looks impressed, uttering how he is improving each day. “You need to work on a lot of things, but you have potential.”

Claude beams at this, knowing that Edelgard is not someone that is easy to impress. Coming up with an idea he asks if he can have Edelgard’s picture to compare between the two drawings. She leans over from her chair to give it to him. With the two pictures he lifts them up to Edelgard and then presses the two pictures together while making kissing sounds. Edelgard rolls her eyes at this and takes back the picture, saying how he now smudged a perfectly drawn picture of him. He merely jests that it is in preparation for the real thing, in which Edelgard, pink cheeked, shakes her head and fondly calls him a fool. Claude grows bashful, chuckles nervously, and rubs the back of his head. An awkward silence befalls the two lords.

Neither are quite ready… but they’re working it out.

* * *

There are no books about individuals that can change their appearance to look like someone. There also doesn’t seem to be any books about the sort of magic or technology these enigmatic ‘people’ (are they even human?) have. To top it off there is _no _history of some sect that conspired against the Church. For hours Claude has been poring over tomes regarding history of mythical beings, enemies of Fódlan, and technological prowess in the library, alone, with only the flickering candle in the dark being his companion. With droopy eyes and a groggy mind he continues to skim read about the Goddess, only learning that for some reason calling her by her real name, Sothis, is taboo. _Plonk_ his head falls on the page, and then a jump as he wakes up. Some drool has stained the page. Damn it he needs to finish this bo-

“I figured I’d find you here.”

Rubbing his bleary eyes he blinks drowsily towards the approaching white figure that is Edelgard. She holds a candleholder, flames dancing across her face, as she approaches him with a droll look. She stands over him.

“I’m trying to learn more about these enigmatic enemies of the Church,” Claude explains through a building yawn. Unfortunately he can’t suppress it. “But there doesn’t seem to be anything on them…”

“You need to sleep,” Edelgard says, an order, with no room for discussion.

She is right. But alas he feels like a bag of potatoes waiting to crumble to the floor and lay sprawled against it. A tired groan escapes him as he accepts that he is too exhausted to get up. Edelgard shifts and pulls his chair out from the table, places the candleholder on the table, crouches and then… picks him up. Yes the austere princess has picked him up like a baby, his arms slouching over her shoulders and legs wrapped lithely around her waist as she nonchalantly carries him out the library. He nuzzles his cheek against her neck and hair, imagining it as a soft pillow. Oh how he always dreamed of being carried by her like this. The reality certainly beats the imagination.

When she reaches his dorm she fishes around his trousers’ pocket for the key to his room, finds it, opens the door, and enters. Upon entering she gently, like a mother placing their child to bed, places Claude down so he is sitting on the duvet. Still too weak to function he stretches out his hands and kneads at the air, and then lifts them up to demonstrate to her to help him take off his attire and change him into his sleepwear.

Edelgard smiles amusedly at his antics. “No, I am not helping you change.”

A defeated whine escapes the exhausted boy, and his arms flop to his sides. Instead of dressing he falls to his side and sighs contently at the soft feeling of his pillow. He has no strength in him to dress, so he best to sleep in his attire. He’ll clean it tomorrow. Before he thinks of sleeping Edelgard moves closer to him, crouches, and then gently takes his side braid. Although drowsy his eyes have a good look at the old scars that disease her hand, some looking surgical like on her wrist, and others looking inflicted from a weapon.

With careful consideration that none would suspect from a girl that wields heavy weapons and armour she undoes the braid. He snuggles up and leans his cheek against her palm, smiling and humming serenely at the warmth of her callous hand upon him. It matters not the grooves and uneven skin; he is blissful from the strength and care it demonstrates, a representation of its owner. He feels her soothe his hair out of his eyes, and tentative caresses against his brows down his jawline. Although he is falling asleep he sees the touched expression on the princess’ face.

She looks like a girl in love. 

* * *

“_I thinking of a flower over there…?_”

Claude smiles encouragingly at her from her side. “Not bad! You’re getting the hang of it!”

Currently in the confines of the princess’ room the tanned boy is once more teaching her Almyran. Edelgard is learning how to speak a few common Almyran phrases. A few days ago he managed to convince her to rest her head in his laps as he taught her! Now he is standing over her to read aloud the phrases in the book, enunciating syllables and letters for her to repeat after him. Whenever she was praised she would beam proudly, and his heart would soar knowing how genuinely passionate and interested she is in his culture.

Deciding to try a different phrase, and being the devious boy he is, he points to one and asks her to read it. She complies, albeit with a deadpan expression, “_I… finding you most good-handsome._”

He let’s out a faux gasp of delight. “Why thank you, Princess! I think I’m handsome too!”

Edelgard looks up at him with a cocked eyebrow. “_You are a stain upon me_.”

Oh ouch; she remembers the insult he taught her. He pouts at her haughty smirk, and grasps his chest as if dismayed. “_My dear flower, so beautiful to behold, yet your thorns cut thine heart_!” 

“Complimenting me and then insulting me will do you no good,” Edelgard dryly remarks and turns to fully face him, still appearing haughtily confident. “My Almyran may be rudimentary, but I can understand a few words.”

With hands on hips he rears his head and laughs. “I’ll take that as a challenge!” He twirls away from her and extends out a hand oh-so vainly. “_Oh my sun, so warm to bask in yet deadly when one gets too close, you must control your temper!_”

Edelgard processed the phrase and narrowed her eyes at him. “I understood that you called me your sun and that I have a temper. Such a weak insult; I lack a temper.”

He grins stupidly at her. “_Fair lady, I beseech you to stop being so ox-headed!_”

She chuckles at him and places the book aside, arms now crossed against her chest. “You have called me pig-headed before. You really need to work on your insults.”

Oh how he loves her, from her dry humour, to her strength, from her unexpected kindness and openness, to her wisdom. “_I love you._”

Edelgard chuckles and inquires snootily, “And what does that mean?”

Claude flashes his pearly whites and chuckles boyishly, and without realising it blurts out:

“It means ‘I love you’!”

Oh…

Simultaneously the two flinch as if some horrid secret has been revealed. The once amused expression on Edelgard slouches to express flabbergast with her light agape mouth, wide eyes and brows. Claude finds himself feeling mortified with his dislocated-like jaw and his eyes as wide as the deer he is associated with. Traitorous cheeks light up red, and like an illness it spreads across his ears and neck, burning against him to further remind him how humiliated he is. He can’t add ‘just kidding’, because he blurted it out with honesty and knows that their relationship is romantic. Damn it he has never felt this meek and vulnerable as a teenager. As a child, yes plenty of times, but as someone who is more logical and rational now he can’t compare. If only there is some poison he can use to wipe her memory of his confession. Oh how he wishes to plummet through the flooring unto the lower level…

Feeling unbearable but needing to gauge her reaction he shyly regards her. Just like her attire the entirety of her cheeks, neck, and ears are crimson, flaring like a series of allergic reactions, her lilac eyes shimmering with uncharacteristic bashfulness. Under any other circumstances he would coo at how adorable she looks. Instead the two share the sentiment of sheer humiliation. She darts her eyes away, and he grimaces in preparation for her rejection or for her to act as if nothing ever happened. One hand brushes some stray white locks aside. She clears her throat. The anticipation is too much, a toxic fume suffocating him until he can’t breathe.

“I love you too.”

Finally he is-wait, _wait-!?_

Knocked to his senses Claude straightens up at what he has just heard. He scrutinises her, dubious about his ears having heard those four words. Yet when she musters the courage to look up at him with a crooked nervous smile he is hit with the realisation that she, indeed, confessed. She didn’t reject him. She returns the feelings. She loves him. _She admitted that she loves him_. The overwhelming outpour of joy that cascades upon him is so much; he feels like a dehydrated man who is quenched for days to come. The flaring skin ceases though his cheeks are still red, and the humiliation from before is replaced with whimsical rapturous joy. Even Edelgard eases her bashful posture to look liberated and joyous in her contained Edelgard-y ways. They both smile at each other, still somewhat timid, but now feeling fondness.

It seems so ludicrous and silly how bashful they acted before over a confession, when they have been dating in secret for a few weeks. Tentatively he approaches her, seeking her approval to close the gap with a questioning look. Without a word she moves toward him, the signal that she complies to his wishes. Both stand close together, almost chest to chest, her head craned to meet his eyelevel. He gently cups her face, delighting in the warmth, thumbing loose strands aside as he stares lovingly into her lilac eyes. She carefully takes off her gloves, tosses them to the bed, and with confidence, after he has allowed her to touch him with her scarred hands many times, caresses his cheeks. There is a sense of reluctance in her eyes, the belief that she doesn’t deserve him, doesn’t deserve to kiss him, and doesn’t deserve happiness. His response is crinkling his eyes fondly down at her, and thumbing her pink lips as a sign that he wants to kiss her, and that he thinks she is wrong in not believing she deserves this. All semblance of reluctance vanishes as she stares up with the fondest expression that Edelgard von Hresvelg can muster. She stands on her toes and he leans down.

They lean and press their lips.

She has such soft lips, a contrast to her athletic stature and her solemn nature. He has only pecked people on the lips, those who had crushes on him that he used to his advantage. But kissing is so much different, and with her, a girl of confidence awkwardly craning her head and testing how firm she should kiss, is something that not even ‘wonderful’ can describe. She suppresses a snort when his side braid brushes along her cheek. They let out content sighs. He can’t help but smile against her lips. She smiles against his too.

They love each other.

Oh the bliss of this mutual feeling.

How delightfully magical.

* * *

**Claude may be smooth, but when it comes to being genuine he is a dork and hopeless boy.**


	16. To Make The Most of It

**A/N: It's been quite a long time! The reason being that my health has progressively declined over the months... and still continues to. But worry not; by October I will have an operation to address the issue! I still hope I can complete part one of this story by the end of the year, but I make no promises. **

**On a side note: I wrote a sidequel story to this! It's called 'The Asymptotes That is the Eagle and Deer', which have one-shots that coincide with this story. There are four chapters/one-off stories that connected to prompts for Edelclaude Week. I will write more when more ideas pop up and when I feel the motivation to write them.**

**I also wrote two one-shots for the last days: 'A Luxury That Can't Be' and 'Home is Where the Heart Is'. **

* * *

“I know it’s not the comfiest bed you’ve probably slept in—”

“No, it is fine, I just…”

Claude nods in understanding, an extremely awkward gesture with his cheek pressed against the pillow. White eyebrows scrunch as Edelgard tries to process what to say without coming across timid or fretful, being a person who prides in being unfazed. Yet even the strong-willed princess could not help but dart her eyes away, for the owner is so unused to such close proximity and intimacy. Not that Claude is any better, in how he turns on his back to stare at the ceiling to hide his darkening cheeks. Movement beside him indicates that Edelgard has also turned on her back. He wets his dry lips as he, the golden-tongue master whom seemingly can prose words without effort in any situation, is rendered dumbfounded. A blink… followed by another… yet his mind whips back to his inner turmoil.

Trust is… not his forte.

Having been raised in an environment where people desire his position of future power, and in a land where inter-racial relationships and people are heavily frowned upon, Claude learnt early on to be vigilant. After many failed assassination attempts (and he has the scars to prove it) from those whom he trusted he has grown paranoid around others. His paranoia isn’t on display—none suspect him of being on edge, what with his cordiality, suave charms, and whimsical façade. Not even Hilda, his closest friend, is aware of his masquerade. Whilst the pig-tailed girl is a friend her views on Almyra prevent him from ever truly being open with her. He’s never been open to anyone outside his parents… until Edelgard came swooping into his life.

He wonders if Edelgard can feel the dagger under his pillow. He ponders if she has her own dagger hidden in her sleep-gown. There is no doubt in his mind that Edelgard too is uncertain about this set up to sleep together. Her cautious nature and paranoia of whom to trust is on par, if not more so, than his. In a strange way he is grateful that she is vigilant like him, for she doesn’t judge him for being over-dramatic. He has found someone so much like himthat his heart flutters. A stupid grin adorns his face as his features crinkle fondly when he turns to look over at Edelgard. Lilac eyes dart to him, and he swears to every deity in existence that he saw her smile lovingly at him for just a second.

So this is what love is like.

Claude wiggles under the duvet to try and make room for Edelgard. Both have their arms anchored from the lack of space. Neither seems to mind, so that’s a start. In fact Claude can’t help but giggle at their antics. There is nothing romantic about this ‘sharing a bed together like couples’ thing, but since when was he and Edelgard like an ordinary couple?

Regardless of how he is finding amusement with the situation, he is still concerned about whether Edelgard wishes to go with this. “Are you, uh, happy to sleep together?”

Edelgard lolls her head so that the two are almost nose to nose. She is silent, seemingly observing him like a predatory bird contemplating its next move. Awkwardly she wiggles her hand and interlocks her fingers with his. Her squeeze is tentative, uncertain, indicative of how the owner is feeling. Yet it eases as she soothes her calloused fingers against his knuckles and palm. There is a smile, oh what a beautiful smile, that lights up her usual stolid face.

“I admit: I am unused to being this vulnerable and close to someone,” Edelgard states in a hushed tone, cautious about the walls having ears. She gives his hand a squeeze. “But I am always willing to overcome any obstacles.”

Claude snickers at how she described the situation in her Edelgard-y ways, which resulted in the princess pouting and turning red. Recovering from his little chortle fit he gently leans in and captures her lips. She snorts amusingly against him as she returns the kiss, a smile breaking through her ‘I’m mad, honest’ facade. Untangling her hand from his he feels her cup his cheek as she attempts to master the art of intimacy and kissing. It warms him beyond comprehension that she is slowly growing used to touching him with her hands that she deemed horrendous. When they pull away they chuckle lightly, their cheeks warm, still unused to being affectionate. Regardless they manage to press their foreheads against each other for a brief moment.

“I’ll keep my arms to myself, just so it doesn’t bring up any bad memories you have,” Claude announces upon pulling away, referring to her nightmares. She told him upon arriving to his room that she has taken her concoction, but still he wishes to respect her boundaries. “You can swat my arms off anytime.”

Edelgard looks startled by his consideration. Her look of astonishment soon morphs into that of her being touched. “Likewise if I happen to breech any of your boundaries then do not hesitate to push me away.”

With a blow of the candle to extinguish all source of light the two House leaders adjust themselves so they lie on their backs, side pressed against side, and fall asleep in the comfort of the other’s presence.

* * *

Sunlight creeps through the blinds, evoking a gold light across a room that is usually cluttered. Such light penetrates through the eyelids of Claude. Taking it as his cue to wake up the tanned boy yawns and groggily blinks his eyes into existence. As his senses awaken he realises that something is holding tightly against him. He then feels something snaked around his hips and legs, and that the tight sensation across his torso feels akin to that of… someone hugging him from behind? Light breathing is heard from behind, and the hairs on the back of his neck tingle when something lightly exhales against him. Surprisingly he is unalarmed. He would have reached for his dagger in any other situation.

It is only so because he knows who is clinging to him.

Glancing over his shoulder, after realising that he slept on his right side, he sees in his peripheral vision Edelgard. To say that he is astonished is putting it mildly. He didn’t expect her to cuddle with him. He _certainly_ did not expect her to securely cling to him like a baby possum atop their mother’s back. He blinks incredulously at the scene. No, this is no fantasy: Edelgard von Hresvelg, solemn as humans come, seemingly unaffectionate to an onlooker, clinging to him from behind to deeply snuggle with him. Such a moment is sure to be stored in his vault of his most valued memories. 

Oh and her muscular legs are lifted so he can feel skin instead of the hem of her sleep-gown, so that’s a lovely bonus~. Now her hold is tightening and he feels that she’ll crush his ribcage and organs—

“Edelgard,” Claude calls, or rather splutters. A murmur is his only answer. He tries to wiggle out of her hold, but alas she is made of iron. His arms are pinned, so he cannot flick her nose.

Another splutter escapes him. “Princess, I know I constantly mock your height, but I don’t think it gives you reason to crush me—!” 

Thankfully his raised squeaky tone stirs the princess. Edelgard groans and blinks herself awake, and pulls her head back, expression contorted into puzzlement. When she quickly realises the position she’s in she retracts away from him. A startled yelp escapes her, and as Claude turns to her he sees an embarrassed red blush spread down to her neck. It’s a miracle she didn’t shoot herself off his bed. Hubert would have eliminated him for that… maybe after torturing him first. 

“I-I’m sorry—I… I had no idea I would cling to you!”

Claude sits up, turns over, and waves his hand dismissively to ease the panicky girl. A toothy grin etches upon his face when he notices how messy her hair looks. A blushing mess, frazzled hair, and gawking mouth: she looks absolutely adorable.

Slowly, so not to startle the already alarmed princess, he leans close until their noses are almost touching. “You’re adorable, you know that?” Claude whispers, his amused grin shifting to a fond smile.

Her face scrunches. She presses her forehead against his. “You delight in my humiliation,” she comments with an antagonised snort.

Even if she is not amused about what occurred, he doesn’t mistake the affection in her tone. “Anything to make you flustered is worth beholding.”

He feels a hand grasp his chin, and before he knows it Edelgard presses her lips against his. It is tender and filled with such emotion that it leaves him feeling dizzy, knowing that someone with such fortified walls can be so openly expressive. She pulls back from the kiss, hand still on his chin, a haughty smile appearing on her pallor face.

“Leaving you speechless… is quite something.”

Oh that sounded… really alluring. Too attractive for his teenage brain to handle. Damn it now his cheeks are darkening. That widening smirk of hers is not easing his buzzing thoughts. Oh the temptation to guide her fingers into his mouth to suckle them is—

He clicks his tongue. “Touché Princess.”

She hums in satisfaction and lowers her hand from his chin. The future emperor turns and comes to a stand. “I must make my leave.”

“You make it sound so formal,” Claude pouts. His humorous mood shifts into curiosity. “Did you have a nice night?”

Edelgard looks over her shoulder. There is a beautiful and honest smile, complimented with a tinge of surprise in her eyes, as she no doubt recalls not expecting such a pleasant sleep.

“It was the best sleep I had in… in a very long time,” she admits quietly, allowing a moment of vulnerability to be shared.

Hearing that brings a joy that Claude does not recall ever experiencing. The only example that may equate to this rapturous delight is when he first learnt about someone as open as him… that someone being Edelgard.

“My room is open to you for the coming nights,” Claude offers softly with the most welcoming expression that he could master—genuine, not fooling. Growing bashful he brushes the back of his head. “And, well, I’d like to do this again.”

Now it is the ‘stoic’ princess’ turn to grow bashful. But through the shyness she manages a tamed yet delighted school-girl smile. “So would I.”

* * *

In the following three few days the two have grown closer.

They’re still quite secretive, but it would be a lie to say that it wasn’t growing harder and harder to keep it that way. Whenever they had an excuse to be alone they would find a secluded area far from the monastery ground, a field of grass with a tree to sit under. Really he, Edelgard more so, should take their private time to study or further bond with their House or future allies. Sometimes one of them tries to leave—try to reason with their logical self that they are wasting precious time that could be used for future political gain. But to be under the serene leafs of a tree, Edelgard comfortably sitting on his laps and pressed against his chest, sharing lokum and their favourite teas, and fingers intertwined, this spell relaxes them too easily and keeps them anchored in place.

On one of those days, in the library, when they were certain they were alone, Edelgard piled some books on the floor. When he approached to inquire what the point was, the pallor girl used the pile as a stepping-stone to give him a kiss. Before she could pull away he grasped her face and deepened the kiss. Someone may had come in, someone may have even caught a glimpse, but that intensive fear was snuffed away as he indulged in the kiss. His hands had engraved the sculpture of her face into his memory: her high cheekbones, the pointed chin, the strands that fell against her jawline, all of it. Most surprising of all was that she did not pull away. To add the cherry on top she even gladly reciprocated the intensiveness of the kiss.

Throughout the three days—of course when no one was around—towards the late afternoon Claude would pull Edelgard along to sneak out Basma from the wyvern barracks and head somewhere away from prying Church eyes. Curfew is the best time to attempt teaching someone how to fly a wyvern after all~! The albino dragon would always smirk a snarl-looking expression that the future sovereign recognised as haughty knowingness. Her toothy grin would then fade as she purred and cooed when Edelgard scratched under her chin. It always brought a goofy yet pleased grin to Claude whenever he saw his girlfriend bond with his wyvern. After much deliberation the two House leaders had decided that it would be the experienced rider at the back to guide the newcomer with the reins.

Being the bull that never strays from its charge Edelgard showed no hesitation whenever she boarded Basma. Not even the first time she showed fear, although she had dryly mentioned she has rode pegasus for sky patrols numerous times so she lacks the fear of heights. It had warmed Claude that she was open to him being behind her, knowing how jumpy she still is whenever comes from behind. The first flight will forever be engrained into his mind in the coming years. Edelgard, yelping from Basma’s quick take-off, her voice uttering how she, surprisingly, trusts his judgement when he took her hands to guide the reins, and her beautiful laughs when she realized that she is indeed riding a wyvern ringing in his head. Who could also forget the banter, although that is something not exclusive to the first flight. 

On the third day the two became… for lack of better expression, _extremely_ _comfortable_ to their touches.

Edelgard sat on the straddle with back straight, poised like the greatest of wyvernlords, evoking sheer confidence that even Basma could sense. For half an hour the princess held onto the reins and steered the albino creature without the assistance of Claude. During the flight Claude had his arms wrapped around her waist. Nothing strange about that. It wasn’t a first. But then, without thinking about it, he unwrapped himself and then placed a hand on her inner thigh. To say he became hyper-aware would be the biggest understatement he’s ever heard. He had planned on retracting his hand and apologising, only for Edelgard to lay a hand atop his, bring another hand to rest atop _his thigh_ _to massage_, and lean back against him. Without word they just bathed in each other’s presence, pressed too closely for mere crushing sweethearts. Even through the hissing air he heard himself and the future emperor’s breathing increase. His heart nearly tore through his rib cage. But, as if she was shot by a Bolting, Edelgard pulled away from Claude and grabbed onto Basma’s reins. Neither uttered an apology or any word. Edelgard acted like her normal self, as if the event was purged from her mind.

The amount of sexual tension between them… surely it isn’t just Claude’s imagination?

The next three nights they shared a bed was wonderful. They always had to squeeze around and adjust, considering that it is a bed designed for one person. He even had part jokingly and part seriously recommended that Edelgard bring her white bear stuffy to join them. Not too long ago the princess would have jumped to his throat for such a jest; instead she smiled and joking remarked that she wouldn’t want him to slobber all over her toy. He only made himself look like a fool when he inquired dead seriously if he does indeed slobber in bed all over her hair. But whilst he felt humiliated beyond belief that no she was teasing him, her hysterical laughter that brought tears to her eyes was absolutely worth sacrificing his dignity for.

Yet even if he doesn’t drool he does, when her back is away from him, occasionally chew her strands of hair. Hey it’s her fault for having long hair! Other than that they have lovely nights. Who would have ever thought that cuddling is such a wonderful experience? Certainly not Mr ‘I can’t have people get physically too close to me, otherwise they could literally assassinate me’. Legs tangled, arms splayed haphazardly across the other, faces so close that a kiss is separated by a breath’s length—everything about it is… cliché and corny as it sounds, magical. He quickly developed the habit of holding onto Edelgard to prevent her from leaving the bed in the early morning. She would always relent by staying for five more minutes. All the nights have been lovely.

Well, except for the _fourth night_ incident. 

When Claude woke up he grew quite puzzled when he noticed Edelgard out of bed. The two always woke up at the same time. Edelgard made it clear that she would not leave him until both were awake. He then took notice of said girl standing a good distance from him with… possibly the most mortified expression a human could muster. It would have been an absolutely lung-bursting hysterical moment for Claude, except he was too incredulous as to why she was glaring at him with speechless rage and humiliation. She had opened her mouth as if to shout at him, only for her to splutter some pathetic squirm. She was so red that he thought he was witnessing the pallor girl transform into some demonic creature. When he asked her what was wrong she, somehow through unfathomable embarrassment and anger, managed to stammer that he had ‘pressed’ up against her. At first he didn’t get it… only to then realize what ‘pressed’ meant. It had been a futile attempt to ease the situation when he tried to explain himself, for the princess decided to save what was left of face by storming out the room. 

But all in all these days have been phenomenal.

If only they could last into the future and beyond…

* * *

“What is it you wished to discuss with the House leaders and I, Edelgard?”

Claude looked over at his fellow House leader with neutral wonder. She hadn’t informed him about the reasoning when they woke up. She had simply told him that he should suspect a meeting adjourned between leaders and the Archbishop. Nothing about her tone had indicated that it was something urgent, but then again Edelgard is not one to panic or express worries over any serious issue.

“The emperor has requested my presence back at Enbarr,” Edelgard begins. “There are some serious issues in my homeland that he wishes to personally speak to me about. No doubt he too wishes for me to address the issues as a test of my future leadership.”

Oh…?

Well that is quite the news. Even if Claude has only been in Fódlan for little over a year, he is very much aware of the unstable political atmosphere in Adrestia. It has only been a few years since the infamous Insurrection of the Seven, so understandably the climate there is as uneasy as it gets. Sure the Alliance continues to be rocky, even after he the rightful heir has surfaced, but it pales in comparison to Adrestia. Amongst Riegan’s inner network of spies there is disturbing news that the emperor is powerless, a mere crippled figurehead that is slowly dying. It only makes sense that in his declining state that the emperor would request his heir to come to his aid. Perhaps there may be some devious plot that the emperor wishes to conjure with Edelgard to eliminate those cumbersome nobles that wish for him to die quickly. Not that he judges: he’d do the same in his position.

Edelgard approaches Rhea to offer her the letter as evidence of her claims. She backs off and then continues: “I have finished all my assignments up to date. I am more than willing to take upcoming tasks that I can complete during the journey to and from Enbarr.” 

The Archbishop nods solemnly, her lips pursed regarding the news. Perhaps she is taking this matter more seriously than others due to how Saint Seiros and Adrestia have a deep connection to one another.

“It is a long journey from the monastery to Enbarr,” Rhea states, face contorted as she calculated the math. “Including the time it takes to return, you will be back in the last week of Pegasus Moon.”

Well that is… quite a long time. Claude expected it, but he can’t help but feel hollow at the idea that Edelgard would be gone for so long. Of course he can handle being away from someone like his family: it isn’t hard once you learnt growing up to never rely on the fact that someone dear will return to you. But this is different. He and Edelgard only have a limited time together to make most of their romance. After Pegasus Moon there is only one month left of schooling. Then everyone goes their separate ways. No more being a couple. They’ll only perceive each other as ‘Edelgard the Emperor’ and ‘Claude the Sovereign’ from then on.

He shouldn’t feel so glum and disappointed. He knows that she can’t ignore an issue that not only threatens her own country but the entire continent. He knows that if he were in her position then he would do the same thing. He knows this, because he is so much like her that he can’t abandon his country’s (in his case countries’) needs for the selfish desire of love. But even if that is the logical conclusion, the flawless answer, he still can’t help but feel a plethora of pessimistic thoughts and emotions.

* * *

Throughout the morning Edelgard packed for the trip. Claude hasn’t approached her yet, considering all the Black Eagles are clambering around her to bid farewell. So he waits by the door to her room, knowing full well that she will come by for one final check. No one else is in their dorms during this time, for he snuck out of class. He’ll get an ear-full from Manuela, but one must make sacrifices to achieve one’s goal.

The sight of white hair complimented by red and black clothing catches his attention from his peripheral vision. He grins as he casually leans against the door with hands behind his head. Internally he feels like he is melting in a puddle made of acid. He doesn’t want to look like he’ll miss her too much, or that he is dismayed that their relationship is nearing its end. Realistically speaking though Claude knows that Edelgard is very much aware of how he must be feeling. She can be socially constipated when it comes to being genuine around others, but she is more than capable of reading through someone’s façade.

“So you’re going on a trip to Enbarr to catch up with your old man,” Claude remarks nonchalantly with his most award-winning grin as Edelgard stands in front of him. “Make sure you bring me a gift when you return!”

At that Edelgard snorts in amusement and shakes her head. “I am not going there for some holiday. I will have no time to spare finding a gift for you or any of my fellow Eagles.”

Maybe it was his imagination, but he could have sworn he detected a sombre edge to her tone in regards to gifts. It was the kind of subtle tone that one makes when they are saying a final goodbye to someone that they’re certain they’ll never see again. But it must be him exaggerating how he feels about missing her.

“You’re no fun, Princess,” he pouts with feigned dismay. With his sentiments overwhelming his happy-go-lucky masquerade his face drops to that of a sad boy. “Shocking as it sounds I’m actually going to miss you, Edelgard.” 

Damn, he can’t even be completely honest without making some jest. Regardless the pallor girl softens, seemingly surprised that he would miss her. It saddens him that she still, after all this time together, doesn’t think she is worth being loved. She darts her head around to see if there is anyone, and when she sees no one she stands on her tiptoes and captures his lips in a deep kiss. He sighs contently into her mouth as she brings a hand to massage his cheek and stroke his side braid. Once more he uses his hands to permanently engrave the features of her face into his memory. When they pull away he almost finds himself leaning to capture her lips once more and never let go. 

She smiles warmly up at him: it is a look that is only reserved for him, and he treasures it more than the finest gemstones in the world. “Do be kind to Hubert.”

He grumbles with mild antagonism. Way to ruin the mood by reminding him that Hubert is taking over as the temporary Black Eagles’ leader. “If by any chance I am dead then you know who is the perpetrator.”

Bell chime chortles escape from the solemn girl. Those crinkled lilac eyes are quite the sight to behold. Claude truly feels like the luckiest person alive to see her like this. Having her leave and be gone for so long is sure to drive him to expose how much the future emperor means to him to the public. Of course he never will spill the secret, and obviously he shall cope and appear like the unfazed suave boy he built his reputation over. Yet it doesn’t quell his yearning for her to come back to him.

Edelgard bids him farewell with one final kiss. It is the last kiss he shall have for a month.

* * *

“You know Petra—I just realised something important.”

Claude and Petra look up at Leonie with curiosity. Currently the three are occupied in the common room, sitting at a table with schoolwork, where they tend to meet together for casual nattering or, in Petra’s case, a helping hand from the willing Leonie and the knowledgeable Claude. These gatherings started many months back when Claude and Leonie bumped into Petra trying to master pronouncing some complex Fódlanese. Since then the three have become friends, although Claude still refrains from opening up to the two about his secrets and from fully abandoning his façade. Nonetheless he genuinely enjoys the twos’ company—they’re some of the more open people to be found at Garreg Mach, daresay Fódlan. 

Leonie points her quill towards the youngest. “What is going to happen to you once you graduate?”

Petra scrunched her face in puzzlement, only to then light up with awareness. “You are referring to the position of I being a political prisoner.”

“That’s a great question,” Claude chimes in, now fully invested as to what his friends are talking about. It wasn’t like he zoned out because of how much he misses a certain princess after a week—“I doubt you’ll be able to walk back to Brigid without strings attached.”

Now Petra appears mortified. “Why would strings need to be attached to me?”

Realising his mistake Claude clarifies that it is a Fódlanese saying. Petra understood at once what it meant, and her expression turns pensive as she contemplates about the reality of her situation. Many times Claude wondered if she picked up on the fact that he is a foreigner, considering the sort of conversations they have about criticising Fódlan’s isolationist stand that dances on lines of being perceived as ‘the other’. Even if Petra knows she never indicated she did, and if she knows it wouldn’t jeopardise his goals to open Fódlan and Almyra to the world with unprejudiced views.

“I have always known and have been teached—err, taught—to be mindful of Adrestian nobles that look down upon Brigid as nothing more than an… what’s the word… ‘extension’ of their power.” Petra explains, brown eyes burning with determination. “A hunter must know when to strike, and thus I am waiting for the moment to strike.”

Leonie blinks stupidly at the princess. “Strike as in… knowing the right moment to attack or form relationships or something?” She then sheepishly rubs the back of her head. “Politics are just so stupidly complicated for me.”

The tanned girl figured that she wasn’t specific enough, and offered an apologetic look to the villager. “I mean know when to form the right relations and who to be using to Brigid’s advantage.”

Claude grinned haughtily and crossed his arms. “Well you’ve cozied up to the Black Eagles, and they have a bunch of future influential Adrestian politicians,” _namely a certain white haired girl_, “You could certainly use them.”

Petra nods, but she seems slightly offended by his words. “I have befriended all of the Black Eagles, and I would wish to try and avoid abusing this genuine bond I have with them.”

Beside her Leonie beams with pride, considering she is a commoner that isn’t fond of nobles ‘using’ people for their gain. There is a fond smile that encompasses Petra’s face. Being a professional in reading the meaning behind smiles Claude knows that this is one of someone feeling auspicious and touched.

“It truly astonishes me that I, a political prisoner from a land seen as ‘lesser’ to a country, have formed the closest of bonds that a person can make with those whom usually look down on me,” Petra speaks kindly with her smile nearly reaching her ears.

She then turns austere, with the sort of aura that one commands when they are absolutely certain in their or another’s abilities. “And I know that Edelgard truly shares my vision to from relations between our countries based on equal feet.”

Hearing those words conjures the proudest smile on Claude’s face. There is no time for him to hide it behind a charming façade. He can’t help but feel a warm swell consume his entire soul. This is not new to him; he has discussed this with Petra in private once when he investigated where the Brigid princess stands with the upcoming emperor. Yet it doesn’t fail to remind him that he has fallen for a girl that is open minded, who is wise, and strong in both body and soul. She is a fire: she does not discriminate, she is steadfast in her ambitions, yet she can be welcoming and soothing to those that risk growing close to her.

“At least she seems like an upcoming ruler that isn’t all snobbish,” Leonie remarks with a snort. Claude lets a ghost-of-a-smile cross him, knowing that she is referring to Lorenz. “I mean I wouldn’t know, as I’ve only chatted with her once. She seems so cold.”

Petra chuckles wholeheartedly and then grins. “You would be most surprised to learn that she was quite dotting with me!” Her expression turns respectful and solemn. “But I rather have a solemn ruler willing to be humiliated than some flamy-ant one who loves to hear the sound of their voice.”

“Flamboyant,” Claude corrects.

Petra thanks him for picking up on her mistake. She once more beams with vehement jubilance, and her smile glows so brightly that no polished pearls could compete. “I would like to gift each of my House companions with something that will remind them of me.”

“Like something of Brigid culture!” Leonie chimes. Petra claps her hands in excited agreement.

Huh…

Gift someone something that represents one’s culture.

He hasn’t thought about gifting Edelgard anything before they part ways. The thought never occurred to him because he tries to spend as much time with her as possible. When it came to thinking of the future it was either about his role as sovereign or visualising saying one final good-bye. Funny how he hasn’t thought about giving her something that will always remind her of him, and the wonderful times they had together as a couple. Gifting her a bear stuffy would not do, for it is something that anyone could get her. But what could he give her that speaks of his culture, secretively of course, but also him?

His mind quickly recalls their lessons of him teaching her Almyran. They always relied on books to learn pronunciation and how to read the language. Claude thinks of the perfect book that he is willing to part with to gift to Edelgard. Yes, once she returns from Enbarr he’ll give it to her. Even if she will be reluctant, due to her being a person that never receives genuine gifts, but he’ll insist. It would make him the happiest man for someone to willingly embrace his culture. Knowing how fascinated she is in his world, he couldn’t think of parting her something so perfect.

Claude places a hand on his fellow Deer’s shoulder, and he smiles proudly and gratefully towards the bemused hunter.

“You know what, Leonie? I think your idea of parting with friends with a gift having to do with one’s culture is brilliant.”

* * *

“I must admit—it’s wonderful to find another person interested in learning art!”

Claude looks up from his paper and grins towards the ecstatic Ignatz. The House leader decided during the second week that he would like to master the art of still life with the best of the best. He would like to give Edelgard a drawing based on her that she could secretly keep and look at to be reminded of his face. It sounds somewhat narcissistic when he puts it like that, but she once confessed that she draws those close to her because her memory is… flawed. He knows it has something to do with her traumatic experiences, and he knows when not to cross the line by catechising her about such sensitive topics. Honestly it startled, and still amazes him, how openly vulnerable she was admitting this to him. Thus he wishes to perfect his drawing skills to sketch his face, and write his initials.

“I’ve been getting quite invested in it,” Claude chirps. He twirls the pencil in his fingers. “I love a good challenge, and what better challenge is there than perfecting strokes, shading, and everything to do with art?”

“I find it relaxing,” Ignatz states. His expression then turns somewhat sorrowful. “Knowing your position of power I’d think you could find a professional artist to hire as a tutor.”

Claude _tsks_ and shakes his head, now taking on a serious look that visibly startles Ignatz. “Don’t sell yourself short, Ignatz, just because you’re not a noble.” Claude then points his pencil to Ignatz’s drawing. “I’d bet you could draw better than any of the royal or ‘professional’ artists I know.”

An embarrassed blush blooms across the artist, and he tries to hide it behind his drawing. “Aw, thank you…!”

“I’m not one to compliment unless I mean it,” Claude assures and then looks back at his drawing. “You should take commissions.”

Even if he is looking at his sketch Claude could sense Ignatz beam like a stained glass window in the sunlight. Before the artist could rebuttal with some ‘would anyone pay me’ claim, Claude beats him:

“You’re skilful. I think if someone truly appreciates art then they wouldn’t care about your background.”

He looks up at the speechless Ignatz. “You told me Lorenz would willingly fund you and give you a platform, right? So if that noble-loving noble believes you’re worth it, regardless of your birth, then you should believe that you’re an excellent artist.”

That seemed to silence Ignatz. Glancing from his drawing Claude could see that the boy seemed to slowly process that what his House leader has said is true. Talent shouldn’t be judged based on one’s birth. It should be judged by how dedicated and skilful the individual is. Leonie is just as good as a marksman than he, and she comes from a village. Dorothea managed to learn magic even if she is a commoner. Honestly Fódlan’s class divide and judgement of the worthy is so skewed that it is a miracle the country hasn’t collapsed.

_Well don’t you sound like a certain small princess?_

“Wow, I, um, thank you once again, Claude!” Ignatz utters. He comes to sit next to his leader and smiles optimistically at their drawings. “Hopefully when you become the sovereign of the Alliance you can create a system that favours those talented, regardless of one’s birth.”

Without control Claude lifts up his head and laughs. This discussion is turning into one he seems to only have with Edelgard! He can’t help but imagine what she would think when he tells her that someone wishes for him to implement a system in his home that she strives to create in her country. There’s a lot he wishes to show and tell her when she returns. 

* * *

“So…?”

Claude looks up from his book to see the familiar face of Hilda examining him so closely that it breeches his personal space. Even at this proximity his peripheral vision catches sight of Dorothea at the doorframe, appearing equally scrutinising as the pig-tailed girl. His expression turns deadpan. What’s with these two always honing on him and bringing nothing but trouble?

“You’re going to have to be something that people call ‘be specific’, Hilda,” Claude remarks dryly. He then looks over to Dorothea. “Unless Dorothea here can answer in your stead.”

The brunette practically saunters through air as she approaches him, a coy and knowing smile etched on her face. “So are you going to ask Edie for dinner when she comes back?”

Oh wow: these two are really leaping off the plank to go for the fish. He cocks his eyebrow towards the two matchmakers. “I don’t know if you two know, but Edelgard and I are meant to be a secretive couple. We can’t just visit some restaurant in town.”

“Well, obviously!” Hilda states and rolls her eyes. She then swipes her finger along the air in a ‘that’s where I come in’ or ‘I have an idea’. “So the only logical thing to do would be to invite her to your room and have dinner together!”

“It may not sound romantic, but tidy it up, give this place some scented candles, and a prepared meal, and I’m sure Edie is bound to swoon!” Dorothea chimes as she spins around to regard the room.

“And~ during the night she returns most students will be down in the Dining Hall celebrating the last coming months before graduation!” Hilda adds with a devious grin. “Don’t worry about Felix being a grump and refusing to leave his room: he’ll be dragged along by Ingrid.”

“Also Sylvain can’t return to his room due to all the incidents of him bedding women during the night,” Dorothea adds with a clap of her hands, sounding a bit too darkly delighted by the prospect of Sylvain being punished. “It’ll just be you and Edie.”

Claude finds himself silent. He never considered doing something as romantic as dinner with Edelgard. Rarely, if ever, the two engage in activities deemed romantic due to their secretive nature. The most romantic thing they ever do is have a picnic, away from people’s prying eyes. Yet even then it was just an ordinary picnic; if they don’t cuddle against a tree then one would not suspect them of being on a romantic get-together. Most would assume they’re talking about politics and having mind games with one another, as Raphael had once ‘observed’ when he chatted with him about the two playing chess all the time. It’s not that he doesn’t or never wanted to do something more romantic. It’s just, as he had explained, they’re meant to be secretive.

But, admittedly, Hilda and Dorothea raise valuable points. On the last week of the Pegasus Moon, the time Edelgard is expected to arrive, there will be a grand feast to celebrate the students’ achievements and nearing end of graduation. One is not expected to attend, yet the vast majority do so for numerous reasons: for nobles the last time to have fun, and for the rare few commoners the last time to mingle with aristocrats on equal footing. There is no better moment to have dinner with Edelgard in his room than the feast. When he invites her he can then give her his gift and drawing. It’s perfect.

He has to give credit where credit is due: Hilda and Dorothea know what they’re doing.

“Seems like you two planned this in advance,” Claude states, his way of saying ‘alright, you win’ without _completely_admitting defeat. “And I’ll take a wild guess that you two wish to help me prepare.”

“Dear Claudie, how perspective you truly are!” Dorothea says with a haughty smirk. “So whether you like it or not us three are going shopping today to buy the right stuff to set the mood!”

Before he could open his mouth the tanned boy found himself being picked up from under his arms by Hilda and Dorothea. The two girls cling to his arms and drag him out his room, appearing merrier than the boy of the upcoming dinner. Once he locks his room he finds himself under a terrible curse that has him gravitate towards the two matchmakers out the corridor and soon out the monastery.

* * *

“Oh this would really spice up the mood!”

“Really, rose petals? How boring and cliché.”

“It’s cliché because everyone knows what roses are associated with! Surely you’d know that with all the suitors you’ve dated!”

“Oh, I _especially _know that when someone gives you roses it’s because they’re lazy and have no idea what you like!”

Claude sighs with utmost dismay as the two matchmakers start a war. It is further fanned with how Hilda starts, unfairly, throwing Dorothea under the carriage with comments regarding the sensitive nature of the brunette’s dating schemes. He would try to step in and intervene, except he knows that nothing he says will ease the conflict. This is between them: two individuals who are strikingly different yet similar enough to try and reach a compromise. Hilda has grown open to commoners over the months, mostly thanks to her gossiping sessions with Dorothea, and bonding with the commoners of the Golden Deer… but sometimes she doesn’t realise how damaging words can be. Dorothea can handle her though; he knows the brunette is one of the strongest people in the entire academy.

He spots a stall selling candles, and approaches when his eye catches sight of a lilac coloured one. It is the colour of Edelgard’s eyes, a soft colour that he once thought was off for someone so cold appearing. Now though he thinks it matches her flawlessly: a mix of passionate beliefs and determined thoughts, with wisdom and open understanding. At the stall he inquires if he can smell the candles, and when answered with a ‘yes’ he picks up the lilac candle and smells it. Lavender. It always was the princess’ go-to smell. It’s also a relaxing scent, so it should be ideal. Mix it with pine-scented candles and it would be perfect.

Speaking of pine he should buy his and Edelgard’s favourite teas as well. Perhaps the Almyran merchant is here so he could buy some lokum as treats. The sweets can last for some time, so even if he buys them now, a week before Edelgard arrives, they’ll still be edible. Oh maybe he could try and cook an Almyran dish for dinner! Alas he doesn’t have an Almyran recipe book… but perhaps the merchant does! He should also try to cook some Adrestian dish to go with the Almyran one. There are a few Adrestian dishes he thinks of that should be easy to prepare: sauerbraten, schnitzel, or bratwurst. A marriage between two cultures would make for quite the memorable dinner. 

Before he could conclude that he didn’t need Hilda or Dorothea’s help the two girls came up to him with a few goods in hands. Wha—when did they compromise!? Is it possible that Hilda… apologised with how she lashed out at Dorothea? Hilda apologising… maybe the Goddess is generous! Snorting with amusement he inspects the items they have. Dorothea has red and white carnations, which she explained have their longevity extended by magic to last for next week. Hilda has some yellow and red dining cloths and chair pillows under her arms. The girls chime their approval of what he has bought and his idea to cook dinner. They even suggested the same Adrestian meal they thought would be best. Well what do you know: these are actually thoughtful ideas to make for a romantic dinner. With the three of them combined they will make this work… as long as there is no more bickering.

* * *

Today is the day.

From a distance with back leaned casually against a pillar so to not look like his misses her Claude observes a black carriage come to a halt at the entrance of the monastery. The Black Eagles stand at the front with ardent anticipation to see their leader return. When the carriage door opens a red stocking leg sticks out, soon followed by the modified black clothing of the House leader attire, and finally a familiar face. Even from here Claude could see those sharp eyes observe the scene before the owner. Austere as always—at least nothing has changed. Some of the Black Eagles practically tackle her with hugs, and she gladly returns. How odd that Edelgard clung to those hugs for dear life. He shrugs it off as he picks up the House’s boisterous chatter about what had occurred during the month she’s been away.

Hubert informs her about the Archbishop’s wish for all Houses to attend the Holy Tomb with the Professor for some ‘divine revelation’ on the morrow. Huh, Claude had completely forgotten about the whole Holy Tomb event. Then again he doesn’t expect anything to happen. Sylvain, Caspar, and Linhardt complain about Hubert’s cold demeanour while being the leader; Lysithea expresses exasperation towards everyone’s stupidity, Ferdinand scolds Lysithea’s horrible manners—they look like one huge dysfunctional family. Edelgard looks touched by her House’s reaction. Even from here he can see a warm smile blossom across her face. Interesting that she is being more openly cordial with her companions. She’s never cold with them perse, but in public she tends to treat them formally as if they are business partners. But then again it has been a month since she’s been among allies and/or friends, so it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

Once the Archbishop finishes the formal greetings and all the hoorah associated with it, and when everyone starts returning to their classes, he pulls her to the side. He raises a hand to assure her that he isn’t trying to kiss her, knowing that they are in the open to potential prying eyes. Sensing that there are no passing students or Church-goers he leans against her ear to whisper his offer:

“Come to my room tonight when everyone is at the feast: I have something for you.”

She looks over at him with scepticism, thinking that this is some sort of bold prank. But the moment she sees how auspicious and beseeching he is her expression morphs into wonder. As expected she nods in affirmation, and she adds that she will inform her House on the night that she is overwhelmed and exhausted from everything that occurred at Enbarr as an excuse. Pleased with this the tanned boy shoots her a grateful smile and saunters away back to his class. It takes all his willpower to suppress his incomprehensible excitement during class and the entire day.

* * *

It is night time.

A deep inhale. A lengthy exhale. Hands clenched tightly together, seemingly bound together and destined to break each other. Hyper awareness of every sense: the smell of melting wax, the sound of his heart beating against his chest, the taste of dry lips, the sight of flickering candles, and the hairs raising on the back of his neck. He sits opposite his desk that he moved to the centre of the room, his eyes trained on the door like a predator waiting with utmost anticipation for its prey to arrive. Now he begins to overthink everything. What if Hubert prevented Edelgard from leaving? What if the princess was too tired from the trip? What if she thought it was too risky? Does he look stupid being clad in his sleepwear, even if he doesn’t have any other clothes to wear? Oh no, he didn’t tell her what to wear!

He’s being utterly ridiculous. Why is he so vehemently nervous about this? It is just dinner. He’s shared meals with Edelgard before. The only difference is that it is just between the two of them, at night, in his room, with some romantic flare. Okay there are a lot of differences. Nonetheless he shouldn’t be this fidgety; he’s meant to be smooth, suave, the definition of a charmer. Except that, in part, is a façade. Whenever he was charming it was to use people, abuse their trust to his advantage. But to be charismatic with someone he genuinely likes it’s… frankly, albeit sounding hyperbolic, daunting. More so when the person he loves is Edelgard von Hresvelg. Logic and allure have been thrown out his mind, replaced with emotions that some silly love-struck teenage boy feels.

There is a knock at the door, followed by a familiar voice requesting entrance.

Swallowing the nervous lump in his throat, and now transformed into an ecstatic boy that practically leapt up from his chair, he beckons Edelgard in. She opens the door and slowly enters. The first thing he feels is relief that she decided to wear her sleepwear. It would have been mortifying if she wore her formal school uniform. When she locks the door behind her and fully enters the room she lets out a gasp, and her expression morphs into incredulous astonishment. Her mouth is agape and her eyes are so wide that it is incredible that they don’t strain her facial muscles. She slowly observes the scene before her, her stunned nature and movement dream-like as she twirls around to regard every nook and cranny.

Corny as it sounds but even Claude finds the set-up to be dreamy. He placed lavender and pine candles in every place that could safety hold them, basking the room in a captivating amber light. By his desk-now-table is a seat with a red cushion placed atop it, solely for Edelgard. Atop the table is a glass vase filled with carnations that glowed in the light. Around the vase is an Almyran dish he always loved called imam bayildi: eggplant stuffed with some mild vegetables he picked from the Greenhouse, topped with spices he bought from a stall. Opposite the dish is the popular Adrestian meal that is schnitzel, with some potatoes and basil to compliment the fried meat. There is a small platter with lokum. Finally there is the tea: bergamot for the guest, and Almyran pine for the host.

“I…” It is a rare sight, most likely rarer than meeting the Goddess, to see Edelgard truly speechless. She blinks stupidly at him. “…You… you did all of this?”

“Dorothea and Hilda suggested the idea and assisted in shopping for some of the stuff here,” Claude answers with the brightest smile he could muster. “But I set up everything and did the cooking.”

He blushes and rubs the back of his head, suddenly sheepish by the way Edelgard is looking at him. She watches him with pure and raw adoration, and with overwhelming gratitude of someone who believes they don’t deserve any of this. It looks like she is one step away from crying. He wants nothing more than to remind her that she does deserve all of this, but he finds himself feeling too vulnerable to express his feelings. Instead he musters an awkward smile and ushers her over to have a seat. Not recovering from her shock, but capable of moving, she sits down and observes the dishes with utmost fascination.

Claude’s bashfulness disappears when he sees her staring at the imam bayildi with interest. “I wanted to try an Almyran dish from a recipe book I bought off from the Almyran merchant. It’s called imam bayildi, an eggplant dish with stuffed vegetables.”

“It looks… extremely tasty,” Edelgard acknowledges, her Edelgard-y way of saying ‘I want to gobble it up like a glutton’.

He chuckles at her gobsmacked nature and passes her one stuffed eggplant onto her plate. “Well don’t be shy: give it a try!”

Without any additional word she picks up her cutlery and proceeds to cut the stuffing and gooey eggplant. He watches her intently as she plops the food into her mouth. A few seconds of chewing, and then he notices her throat swallow the chunk. The look on her face indicates that she absolutely loves this meal, and without hesitation or care of noble etiquette she digs into the dish. His heart swells a crescendo at how she adores a meal that is a part of his culture and so dear to him. He never imagined that a Fódlander would ever love an Almyran dish, let alone try it with such willingness. When she states that the dish is delicious his soul feels so free.

They eat mostly in silence, occasionally making small talk about what’s been going on since they have been parted. He doesn’t catechise about what she had been doing in Enbarr. Tonight he just wants it to be Claude and Edelgard the two teenagers in love, not Claude and Edelgard the future rulers of their respective country. She gives her compliments regarding the schnitzel, saying it is one of the best schnitzels she has ever had. She then jests that if he keeps up with this delicious cooking then she would marry him. Claude grins at seeing the princess loosen up, and then jokes that he could make fine meals for her and poisoned ones for Ferdinand. Edelgard nearly choked on a potato from bursting out laughing. She was embarrassed by the snorts that escaped her, and grew more so when Claude cooed her for having adorable snorts.

She unapologetically gorges on the lokum after her two dishes. His eyes crinkle fondly, remembering just how much of a sweet tooth she has. Not being one for sweets he simply sips his pine tea and observes the sweet-loving monster in action. There was some shockingly left, for she decreed that she would have a stomach ache the next day if she were to eat more. So she joined him for tea. She uttered that the tea was too cold, but assured him that she can still enjoy it. Blunt as always, but he finds it strangely endearing in this situation as he drinks with her. That and his tea was cold too.

Once everything was finished the two sat on the bedside. The amber glow of the candlelight blanketed the two teenagers as they looked at each other with an affection that many couples would envy. Tentatively Edelgard edges her hand to rest atop Claude’s own. He intertwines his pinkie with hers. They just stay like this for a moment, enjoying the smell of scented candles and basking in the lovely warm glow. 

“Thank you, Claude,” Edelgard speaks tenderly after finishing her cup of tea. Her lilac eyes are so soft that for a moment he forgets that this is the pragmatic and solemn future emperor. “I… I honestly do not have the words to express my gratitude to you.”

His smile seemingly exceeds the limit that is humanly possible. “Don’t thank me just yet…!”

He leaps off his bed and goes to fetch something from under his chair. Finding the two items he then returns back to the bed, adjusts his posture so he is facing Edelgard, and then offers the two gifts. She carefully, as if the two are as fragile as glass, takes them and gazes with utmost flabbergast. Edelgard rummages through the pages of _Understanding the Language of Almyra: Fódlanese to Almyran_, mesmerised by what she sees and reads. After the skim read she then lifts the drawing, her face softening as she recognises it to be him. Now Claude knows his artistry isn’t as good as hers, but his drawing does look like him so she’ll never mistaken it for someone else.

If he had thought she seemed touched beyond words or comprehension when she noticed the set up… well how she appears puts it to shame. She looks at him, _truly looks at him_, with such fondness that it radiates upon him in a way that makes him feel almost as overwhelmed as her. Before him is not the ‘arrogant’ cold future emperor, or the stoic individual that embodies logical thought. Before him is a girl that doesn’t believe, can not comprehend why, she deserves such love from anyone.

“Claude…” Edelgard breathes out. She lowers her head and scrunches her face for a second, as if preventing herself from shedding tears. “I… I… I didn’t even get you anything…!”

He shrugs nonchalantly and shakes his head. Carefully he takes the book and drawing from her, places them on his night desk, and intertwines his fingers with her hand.

“You were busy,” he reminds her softly. He lifts her hand and kisses the back of it, his emerald eyes never leaving hers for a second. “Besides there is no better gift than seeing you like this, Edelgard.”

Under any other circumstances his comment would have been unbelievably corny and cringe inducing. But now he wishes to bear his heart out to the girl he loves. He wants Edelgard to know that he loves her, regardless if she believes he shouldn’t, and oh how he wants her to have his love engrained into her mind. With his free hand he cups her right cheek, and thumbs it with such veneration as if she is a living and breathing work of art. Whether she is aware or not she leans into the touch, her crinkled eyes remaining poised on him. Tenderly she cups his cheeks, her calloused fingers caressing his features like he had done in the library to memorise his face. Lilac rake in his features in a manner that says that the owner is in incredulous disbelief that he is real, and that this isn’t some fantasy she conjured up. 

Before he has the chance to lean in and kiss her she beats him. She kisses him deeply, intense and raw, unafraid to express how much he means to her. Her hands grasp his neck to push him deeper against her mouth, and her tongue awkwardly prods his lips open for access. He jubilantly obliges and returns the favour with his tongue trying to slip into her mouth. His fingers rake across her scalp, delighting in how her hair feels against them. She sighs contently against his mouth, and he allows a sigh of his own to escape. He means so much to her, and she means so much to him. His soul is on his lips, and her soul is on hers.

When they pull back they observe each other with a mixture of fondness and astonishment for how intimate they were. No soon after they both turned uncharacteristically bashful, their skin so red or dark that it places the brightest or darkest variant to shame. Yet they did not waver, and only deeply stare into each other’s eyes. 

“Edelgard…” Claude starts, feeling the need to break this unbearable atmosphere. His hands find hers once more. “We almost have no time left together.”

She appears to grow sullen by this realisation. She squeezes his hands in assurance, even if the owner if feeling melancholic. “Know that I will miss each and every one of these moments I have with you.”

“Maybe…” Claude swallows a large lump his throat, the audible gulp attracting the princess’ attention. His ears turn darker. “…Maybe we could have a, uh, ‘moment’ for just tonight.”

Edelgard catches what he means instantly. Even though she has grown unbearably red she manages to remain composed. There is conflict dancing across her face, an internal battle of wants versus logic.

Her voice turns quiet: “Are you saying we should be selfish?” 

Claude nods. “I want to express all my love for you tonight, so that you can remember it as a… not as a farewell gift, but as a reminder of the special relationship we had.”

If she says no then that is fine. He hopes his softened yet austere face indicates that the decision is to be mutual. He won’t goad her if she doesn’t wish to comply. Even he is uncertain about going through with it. To do so would leave him and her in such a vulnerable position that neither even thought they would willingly place themselves into. It won’t change a thing of their relationship. He will love her regardless.

Edelgard retracts her hands from his. He expects her to deny the offer… only to then feel her hand shyly tap a few fingers against his.

“I too wish to express how much you mean to me,” Edelgard decrees, certain about wishing to go through with this, but unused to being so vulnerable. “I want tonight to be my means of expressing why I fell in love with you, Claude.”

Claude taps his fingers against her hand in return.

“Then I think… there’s nothing wrong about being selfish.”

* * *

**Someone writing a comment: is the next chapter gonna be only smut-**

**Me: Yes. One doesn't have to read it though! Chapter 18 will pick up the day after.**


	17. To Bask in One’s Light

**A/N: This chapter is... well I wouldn't call it 'shameless smut' as there is character development through the art of smut. Anyhow you do not need to read this chapter! The next one picks up the day after. But for those who crave Edelclaude smut: enjoy~!**

* * *

With the answer declared the two scoot closer and seal the deal with an intimate kiss. Claude wraps his legs around her waist to bring himself closer to Edelgard’s person, and soon he finds himself straddling her and smothering her lips with his tongue. She lets out a mewl, a sound that further ignites the flames that course through to his groin. Her strong arms snake around his back to rub circles and to push him against her demanding mouth and tongue. He can’t help but let out an elongated groan as she dominates this make-out secession.

Needing air the two pull out, but like trying to take apart magnets they find themselves quickly drawn to each other. After a few quick kisses of varying angles and pressures on her lips Claude starts trailing away by kissing her cheeks and up along her nose. Edelgard lets out a few giggles at his feather-like kisses, and he grins fondly against her skin. When he bestows kisses along her jawline she halts his progress by lightly grasping his chin, so to be given the chance to reciprocate what he has done with her cheeks, nose, and forehead. Her kisses feel like a flame that chases the chill and cold away, replacing it with the warmth of a fireplace. They are adoring, full of veneration, and he can’t help but sigh contently as she kisses his face.

When she finishes with his jawline he leans in to kiss down the mighty white column that is her neck. Perhaps sub-consciously she tilts her head back to allow him for better access. She lets out a moan as he kissed down her throat, a rumbling sensation that delights his sense of touch, a tell-tale sign that he has found some spots that make her quiver with delight. He feels warmth coalescing to his stomach, possessing him to unwrap from her waist and bring his hands to the hem of her sleep gown to roll up along her thighs. His thumbs brushes against muscled skin, and as a result he groans hungrily against her throat.

“W-wait...”

Coming to an immediate halt Claude pulls away with solicitous concern dancing across his emerald eyes. Did he unintentionally push her boundaries? Did he accidentally trigger some traumatic memories? Curses he should have been mindful…! But his self-loathing fades away as he carefully read her expression and body language. Shame flickers across her usually steely eyes. White eyebrows furrow with uncertainty that gnaws at her mind. Her hands had retracted away from his back some time ago, and are now clenched tightly against her knees. Her mouth is pressed in a firm line, the sort of frown Claude knows to be of someone having a question yet being too afraid to ask. She appears… not ‘uncomfortable’ in the sense of one causing the discomfort, but in regards to her being disgusted with herself.

He waits quietly, showing her that he will not goad her to do something that makes her uncomfortable. His fingers drum against the bed sheets by her knee, uncertain if he should carefully grab her hand to soothe it, to allow her to know that he is here to support her. Instead he opts to watch her with beseeching and kind eyes, an auspicious smile crossing his face as she observes him with scandalize. Eventually she steels her nerves and musters the courage to be open with him.

“May you take off your clothes first…?”

Ah, he understands.

Even during their time together Edelgard has never shared her scars, outside her hands. Many haven’t beared witness to any scars upon her body, save for Manuela (which was out of reluctance, as Claude learnt from an antagonised, yet understandably worried, Ferdinand) and Hubert. He knows how terrified she is to share her blemishes. There have been instances when she quickly rolled down her sleepwear’s sleeves before he could notice during their cuddling. When he combed her hair the one time she made sure to pull up her collar to hide any scars engraved on her back. He has his own old wounds—which she has only glimpsed at when she came to him after the Miklan Incident. If sharing his will make her realise that she doesn’t have to feel revolted by her body then he is glad to comply.

He leans and gives her a quick chaste kiss on the lips. A comforting and understanding smile crosses him as he pulls back. “I’m all yours, Edelgard.”

She doesn’t have to utter a thank you; her softening face says it all. Edelgard leans her forehead against his to further articulate how grateful she is, and then she pulls away to wait for him to discard his belongings. Claude wiggles out of his pants and then haphazardly throws them onto the floor. As his hands grasp for the buttons of his sleepwear pallor hands gently halt him. Taking the hint he allows Edelgard to unbutton his collar, and for her to lift his top over his head. Discarded of his top, which was gently placed to the ground by Edelgard, he places his hands in his laps and sits up straight.

His body has scars that remind him of the future he wishes to create: a world without prejudice. Jingoists that despised his mixed lineage created most of these wounds. Royal opportunists that knew that the death of a ‘mongrel’ would not enrage every Almyran made the other scars. The majority of his scars are across his back. Some smaller ones, done by daggers, can be seen around his left ribs and around his shoulder close to the neck. The largest scar is located around his right breast, barely hidden by the few chest hairs that have begun to sprout. It also happens to be his oldest: the first time an assassin tried to harm him when he was at the tender age of five. 

Edelgard scoots closer to him so that her knees touched his crossed legs. Slowly, as if unsure if she can, she brings her fingers to caress along the scars on his ribs. His muscles grow taut to the callused yet pleasant touch. Edelgard briefly pulls away when she conjured such a reaction from him, only to then realise that he enjoyed it. Her fingers skirt over to his largest scar, where she then rests her palm against his breast. He observes how pensive she appears, how her lilac eyes bore into his scar with some intense emotion he can’t place his finger on. Perhaps it is an understanding of what it is like to be burdened by responsibilities that very few can grasp.

“Thank you…” she says quietly and with such sincerity that it melts him.

Claude smiles, even if she can’t see it as she stares at the scar. Before he could open his mouth to say anything he watches with puzzlement as Edelgard’s face scrunches with fascination. Her hand moves to the centre of his chest, where she then runs her fingers through the coarse chocolate brown hair. Lilac eyes are wide with utmost wonder as the user’s hand massages through the sprouts of hair. Claude would have found the sensation arousing (well, he did swallow back a moan), if not for his vehement amusement regarding Edelgard’s child-like enthrallment of his chest hair. He snorts and chortles merrily, feeling comically joyous in a way he cannot recall having felt in a long time.

“Is my chest hair really so fascinating, Princess?” he grins down at her with sparkling emerald eyes.

Seeming to break out of a trance Edelgard sheepishly looks up at him with an adorably awkward smile, her hand still on his chest. “My apologies.”

He kisses her forehead in an ‘apology accepted’ manner, even if it was for something entertaining. He opens his mouth to inquire if she would like to start with him first, only for it to shut with gaping anticipation as she retracted her hand from him and brought it to her collar. His eyes regard her solicitously, emphasising to her that she doesn’t have to push herself into something that makes her uncomfortable. But she continues with a pensive expression, one that Claude has learnt to interpret as her wishing to conquer a task without assistance. So he sits with ardent expectation, mouth lightly agape, and his eyes watching her every move. Edelgard brought her hands to the hem of her sleep gown, and slowly she began to pull it up. Claude’s breath hitches with anticipation.

The sleep gown is discarded, and Edelgard is left exposed.

Claude suppresses a hiss of shock from escaping his agape mouth. His expression softens into what he could only describe as a strange mixture of horror and veneration. Edelgard has her head craned down so he can not read her, but even with the long silvery strands of hair cascading over her face it did nothing to hide her torso. Faded scars disease her body, seemingly covering every inch of skin. The vast majority of them seemed too clean and precise, in a manner that disturbingly reminded him of surgical treatment. Those do not look haphazardly done—they are all methodically done around parts of the body where organs and certain muscles are roughly located. The largest and most precise scar is the one that runs vertically down her chest and between her breasts. The other cleanest cuts, as he has seen when holding her hands, are located at her wrists where the arteries are. As for the handful that do not look methodical: they appeared to be scars caused by someone lashing out at the owner to, most likely, put them in their place.

There are so many questions ready to tear out from his voice box. He always strived to be a step ahead and above anyone he came in contact with, be that political allies or rivals and friends or acquaintances. To have all the cards at his disposal, to be able to pull a wild card to have the high ground above anyone in his way. Now he wants nothing more than to catechise because he _cares_ about someone. But he knows that, that is not what Edelgard needs: an interrogation of the past, a past that has traumatised her.

Slowly she looks up at him, dead-set on his eyes, her face scrunched up in a brave manner that dared him to recoil or react in some way with disgust. She is clearly trying to keep it together with that not-so convincing composed expression. Nothing he will say will convince her of how attractive he finds her. So instead he carefully closes the gap and places his mouth against the scar of her collarbone. His chaste kisses move to another scar, always honing in whatever was the closest to his mouth, all the while using a hand to caress those he has not bestowed. He kisses and licks with utmost veneration, the sort that is akin to a holy person’s feelings towards the Goddess. Through it he feels Edelgard’s posture loosen. When he pulls away to gauge her face he sees a woman looking down at him in incredulous disbelief, dubious that someone finds her stunning.

“You… don’t find me hideous?” Edelgard breathes with a wistful touch in her questioning and sceptical tone.

Claude hums in a mix of affirmation and arousal, all the while smiling lustfully up at his partner. He scoots up her person to lean next to her ear, all the while his hand runs across the scars of her left shoulder in a soothing and awed manner. His tone drops to something husky and craving, a rawness that even the most cynical people could not doubt:

“The amount of nights I lost touching myself to the idea of kissing your scars across your body… well, you could say I’m an insomniac as a result.”

Oh how he relishes in how her ears and face light up crimson, the red heightened by the candlelight that dance in the background. Making her speechless is almost as arousing as when she dominated him in their kissing session. The taut muscles easing to his massaging touches against her arms and sides certainly add to the coalescing sensation in his groin. Edelgard cups the sides of his face and practically ploughs her lips against his. He lets out a startled mewl, which resulted in the princess pulling away and opening her mouth to apologise, only for him to take advantage by capturing her lips. She snorts against his nose, and he allows her to demonstrate how touched she is by his words and gestures by leading the kiss. His hands rub against her back, finding the grooves that are scars in which he carefully thumbs over. Her hair runs between his fingers, a relaxing sensation that topped with feeling her muscular shoulder blades—_that this is reality_—conjures a throaty lustful groan against Edelgard’s mouth.

When they pull away his hands find the clips of her bra. He looks at her to seek permission. She nods, and so slowly he undoes the bra. Once undone and discarded to the floor Claude pulls back to have a good look at her chest. He feels his pupil dilate when he scrutinise her breasts. They are small, yet he never was one to fixate on the size of one’s chest. If anything he likes that they appear to fit in his palms. Her pink nipples appear hard in the candlelight, and the thought brought the delighted feeling of knowing that he is the sole cause. But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit nervous about the idea of touching them. Is there an appropriate way to start? Are there some steps in how to do this properly? Has he been staring for too long, looking like some confused fool? Sure he’s not _clueless_about how it works, but books don’t mention how each person has different wants and needs in regards to being pleasured. 

Edelgard, although cheeks tinted pink, appeared far more composed than he. Fortunately she seemed to pick up that his ogling was more to do with him being clueless than being, understandably, lustful. Amusement twinkled in her once uncertain and sheepish lilac eyes. 

“I did touch your chest, so you have every right to touch mine,” Edelgard said, her tone tinged with that same delight in her eyes. She leaned a hand on his shoulder to massage it comfortingly, a content smile adorned on her face. “I trust you with how to, er, handle it.”

Although awkward as the delivery was it is all the encouragement that Claude needed. He gave a nod, thus she retracted her arm and straightened up so that her perky breasts are offered to his touch. To experiment he brought his hand to her right breast, and gave it a gentle squeeze. Edelgard let out a gasp as she flinched and arched her back to the touch. _Oh now that is a reaction he craves from Edelgard_. With confidence he brings his other hand to her opposite breast and proceeds to knead the two like dough. A mix between a whine and gasp escape from the pallor girl, followed by a throaty groan that made his cock tingle with impatient craving. Gradually more and more moans come from the usually composed princess as he starts rubbing his thumbs simultaneously over her hardened nipples. He risks a light pinch. His award is Edelgard scrunching up her eyes and pulling back her head to let out a mewl.

Claude doesn’t know how long he can last.

When he believes he’s ready and that she is comfortable he brings his mouth to her right nipple. He feels Edelgard’s body shudder as his lips enclose the teat and lick against it. He heard her exhale a breathy sigh, followed by a few uncontrolled whines. She ran her fingers through his hair and scalp as he continued ravishing her teat, and he could not help but groan pleasingly at her ministrations. When he moves to the opposite teat he uses his free hand to rub against her unattended breast. She moans out his name and her grip on his hair tightens. Oh how he loves how she tugs his hair, and she knows this with how he gasps against her teat and pinchs the other to encourage her. So she continues to grip his hair and massage his scalp.

Looking up from his nibbling and tonguing job he sees Edelgard bite down her bottom lips and tightly close her eyes as she finds herself in the throes of pleasure. Those hisses and pitched whines she makes indulge him so badly that he feels his cock press ardently and impatiently against his smallclothes. She’s absolutely mesmerising like this, her jaw slack and her face twisted in nothing but sheer pleasure. He wants to perfectly memorise this moment: the delightful whines, the taste of sweat against her teat, and the sight of her coming apart for him and him alone. Edelgard is absolutely stunning.

Finishing he pulls his mouth away. Edelgard’s heaving breaths gradually slow to an even tempo. When she recovered Claude wraps his arms around her torso so he can lean his chin against her chest to look up at her half-lidded eyes. She looks down at him with nothing but fondness, a lazy smile etching on her pallor face as she ran her fingers through his hair. He hums contently at the sensation, and rewards her by planting few loving and chaste kisses along the mighty scar against her chest.

Her comfortable purrs cause him to look back up with a haughty grin. “Has my golden tongue been put to good use, Your Highness?”

She blushes heavily at his implication, only for her to then narrow her eyes in a seductive manner as she rubsbed her hand against his chest. He didn’t mean to indulge her by letting out a delighted gasp. Now a triumphant smirk crosses her face. Seems the both of them have rather sensitive chests.

“You are still rather annoying, so I would say no,” Edelgard responds cheekily. Her expression softens as she brings her hands to cup and thumb his pouting face. “Nonetheless I still love you.”

Claude positively radiates at a power that surpasses even the sun. She leans and kisses his forehead. A solemn expression then crosses her, leaving the tanned boy puzzled. There seems to be something on her mind, something that she is debating as to whether she should share or not. Her expression morphs into something nostalgic, of someone reminiscing wonderful times that now leave them feeling melancholic.

“Claude,” she begins in a light tone. She gazes at him sheepishly, like a shy child wondering if they should ask to sleep with their parent after a nightmare. “Just for tonight… may you call me ‘El’?”

Claude blinks up at her with surprise. She continues: “It is just… there will be no one else to remember me by that nickname.”

Ah, she must be referring to how her siblings used to call her by that name and how her father will be the last family to ever call her as such. The fact that she wants him to call her by a nickname that means so much to her—something that only her family referred to her as—soars his heart beyond the sky’s limit.

“El, huh,” he tests the name on his lips, and relishes how it pleasantly rings in his ears. He smiles the broadest smile he can muster. “It has a lovely ring to it.”

Edelgard beams with vehement rapturous joy, and he can’t help but lean in to capture her lips in a loving chaste kiss. He moves against her ear. “Then allow me to proceed with where I left off… El.”

He sees and feels how she pleasantly shivers at his husky tonal use of her nickname. Claude will absolutely be sure to use her nickname to garner such delicious reactions. She nods in approval, and so he gladly resumes by starting with her stomach. He laps at her abs, his tongue tracing patterns against every one of them with aroused veneration. His hands massage her thighs as he descends against her stomach. Throughout her hands continue to thread through his scalp. Eventually his lips stop at the waistband of her smallclothes. Pulling back he finds himself feeling haughty jubilance at the sight of a _very clear_ wet patch. His grin is positively wolfish.

“Well look at how drenched you are! I’m relieved to see that I’m not the only one who’s aroused,” he comments with his grin appearing to break the limits of his face. In the back of his mind he is extremely relieved to know that he isn’t the only one affected by their lovemaking.

Edelgard grumbles with embarrassment, and oh it is so adorable that he can’t help but wholeheartedly chuckle and coo. Emerald locks with lilac to inquire if she wishes for him to undress her smallclothes or for her to do it. She flicks her chin as indication for him to proceed. His previous snooty triumphant attitude vanquishes in less than a second as he takes in a deep breath to then roll off her smallclothes. When he discards it to the ever-growing pile of clothes he straights his back to have a look at Edelgard.

In an instant time halts.

His heart pounds at a rate that is akin to the first time he took flight atop a wyvern. Every millimetre of blood rushes to his groin, and the conjoining sensation in his stomach implodes. Between her thighs are coarse white hairs that serve as curtains for a drenched pink entrance. His eyes unashamedly rake in her entire nude form, admiring every muscle, curve, and scar that he sees. None of his imaginings have ever been this close to capturing the true aphrodisiac in human form. She is the embodiment of perfection, the mightiest and most beautiful warrior that mankind will ever have.

His cheeks are practically burning away from his face as he continues to gawk at her. Edelgard flushes crimson under his appreciative gaze, yet she doesn’t dart away. He really looks like the definition of a speechless fool. His suave and seemingly confident persona shatters as he sits silently to judge what to do. He knows how things work, but the reality is… it is daunting.

“Wow, uh…” the smooth-talker, a man whose words are like poetic prose, is now rendered to an ordinary boy feeling overwhelmed. “…How would you like to proceed?”

Edelgard clears her throat and tilts her head in puzzlement. “Surely you, erm, know how to—”

His ears flare. “Yes, I know all about that!” Did he just squeak? He really is becoming undone. He then comes up with an idea. “Maybe you could sit on my lap while I… you know… put my deft fingers to good use.”

It is a miracle that Edelgard has not burnt to a crisp with how she lit up. Her eyes stare at the bulge in his smallclothes, and once more he feels his ears scorching with humiliation.

“Yes you’ll feel my cock between your buttocks, but consider that a fringe benefit on both our parts,” he says with a wink, even though his darkening face conflicts with the flirtatious quip.

He crosses his legs so that she can comfortably sit on his laps. He watches her, his inviting expression informing her that whenever she is ready. His heart is pounding right against his ears as she awkwardly scoots over to him. She grabs onto his right shoulder to adjust herself as she comes to straddle him. He can’t help but groan throatily as his clothed cock brushes between her firm buttocks. Even Edelgard lets out a moan at the sensation. One of his hands supports her by grasping her right buttock. They stare lovingly into each other’s eyes, and oh how every poet dreams to capture such an intense moment of romance like this.

Claude brings a hand to run his fingers through her coarse hair. He quite likes the sensation. “Are you ready, El?”

Edelgard hums in a mix of approval and arousal, a lovely smile shining down at him. With one finger he runs it down her platinum coarse hair and then along the wet outer-folds. He traces a perimeter around, his eyes darting down to see how he is handling the situation. Edelgard hisses pleasantly at the sensation, her hand on his right shoulder tightening as he continues his ministrations. He feels her body twitching and bucking against his hand, impatiently demanding him to place his finger where it ought and must be. So without further or do he carefully inserts one finger into her.

Edelgard lets out a strangled yelp-mixed-gasp, and her body becomes rigid against his person. Emerald eyes light up at the sensation. Claude wasn’t entirely sure what to have expected, even when he has read books on such matters, but he is overwhelmed by how warm she is that it is… simply incredible. He gently pumps his finger into her cunt, making sure to keep it at a slow and steady pace. Moans and whines escape the princess, a beautiful symphony that makes his head dizzy with lust. He looks up at her face, mesmerised by the sight before him. Her bottom lips scrunch up so that it is practically disappearing under her upper lip. Her half-lidded eyes gaze hungrily at him, and the sweat matting her white brows and eyelashes leave him completely star-struck. He very much would like to make her come completely undone, and to hear what else her lovely voice can make.

He inserts another finger and increases the pace of his churning. Edelgard’s hips buck more furiously against his hand, and her moans and grunts grow louder and louder. Now she is holding both his shoulders, her fingers digging firmly into his skin. Subtle soft and wet sounds could be heard. She’s practically riding out his hand to kingdom come. Well there is one more thing he can do that will certainly have her scream with elation. Angling his hand he then places his thumb against her clit, and rubs it at an agonisingly slow pace.

She freezes and unceremoniously slams her chin against his left shoulder to suppress a high-pitch scream. He feels her heaving pants against his skin as he continues thumbing the sensitive nub. She moans out his name with each rub and touch, a chant that is made solely for him. The breathless whispers of his name are almost enough to finish him off. He groans gutturally with her, as if she is pleasuring him, his cock growing more and more impossibly hard. He is very much aware of his pre-cum drenching his smallclothes. It’s not his turn yet. Thinking he has a good rhythm, and feeling confident about his abilities, he fingers her with three digits while simultaneously using his thumb to pleasure her clit. 

The sinful carnal sounds Edelgard makes as she rocks desperately against his hand is almost enough for him to cum. His cock urges him to be inside her, but he brushes it aside as he continues assisting Edelgard’s quest of release. Her drawn-out cries of exhilaration causes him to release his firm grip on her buttock to lift her chin off his shoulder, and guide her face to his eye-level. With his thumb he gently caresses her jawline and swollen lips. Through her heaving breaths and shuddering body she looks at him with half-lidded eyes. He presses his lips against hers, lingering on them for a good few seconds, and pulls away by a few centimetres.

“I love you, El,” he whispers lovingly. “No matter what happens.”

At his words Edelgard chokes out a final cry, and her body convulses one final time. Something creamy registers against his hand. Tentatively he pulls it out from under her. Her body collapses against his, her forehead pressed and balanced against his. He takes his hand away from her jaw to support and massage her back as she slowly starts to regain her breathing. He peppers kisses along her neck to the shell of her ear. With his coated hand he wipes it against the duvet. She pulls herself away from his person and looks at him with gleaming eyes and a lazy smile.

“You certainly… put your fingers to good use,” Edelgard breathes out a laugh. Her face is crinkled out of pure bliss, heightened by her flushed skin and sweat-coated face.

Claude can’t help but chortle as he recalls how bashful he was just a number of minutes ago regarding fingering her. Seems he still is, with how his ears ring. Not used to feeling shy, and wanting to one-up his partner like with their usual banter, he smiles seductively as he lifts his sticky hand to her line of sight. How utterly adorable she appears in how she turns as red as the finest ruby and splutters with uncharacteristic speechlessness. But it also affects him with how his skin flares at the realisation that he made Edelgard cum. Suffice to say his one-up backfired.

Edelgard climbs off his laps, and her once sheepish demeanour shifts to that of excited desire. “I believe it is your turn now.”

Her husky tone causes him to shiver with ardent anticipation. Edelgard closes the gap with a hungry kiss, her hands cupping his cheeks and keeping him in place. He moans into her mouth as she slips in her tongue, and eagerly allows her to dominate him. She then pulls away and watches him with contentment as she runs her fingers along his jawline.

“You would look quite handsome with a beard,” Edelgard comments out of the blue, her smile broadening at the image. “It would be lovely if you grow one.”

Claude beams at the proposal. Almyran men grow out beards, so it is lovely to hear that once he grows his that she will appreciate it. Even if they are never to be together he may one day meet her in private to bestow her the opportunity to run her fingers through his beard. The thought, whilst usually sombre in regards to the two never going to be a couple in the future, brings a stupid and dorky grin to his face.

“Well, now I know that I just have to grow a beard to make you my political ally,” he jests.

She snorts and shakes her head. For a split second he thought he caught a melancholic glint in her eyes. His musings are interrupted as she proceeds to pepper kisses down his throat; now his thoughts are consumed with lustful thrill. When she reaches his chest she darts her eyes to his nipples, curious if he would enjoy having his suckled and touched in the same way he did to her. She pulls back, and once again brings her hands to massage his chest. He sighs contently as her callused hands rub through his chest hair. Her fingers thread nicely through the strands, and her caresses causes his cock to twitch. She gauges his reactions carefully as she nears his left teat, wondering if he would allow her to touch it. He nods with a lazy smile, thus she brings her fingers to rub his nipple.

He lets out a delighted whine at the sensation. Oh wow—who’d ever thought that the mere rub of his nipples would leave him shivering with ecstasy? Edelgard instantly picks up his reactions, so with a boost of confidence she brings her other hand to rub his opposite teat. Claude creates a musical piece made of his whines and hisses as she rubs his nipples. When she lightly pinches them he lets out a broken gasp and a thrust of his chest. Edelgard leans over to capture his gasping mouth for a kiss, all the while continuing to pinch and knead his nipples. His hands gravitate to her cascading hair, threading and scrunching up as he groans into her lips. She hums pleasingly into his mouth as he runs his fingers through her scalp.

Before he could slip his tongue into her she pulls away, earning a disappointed whine from him. She offers her apology by lowering her head to enclose her mouth against his right nipple. When her tongue runs along it he nearly leaps out of his skin from the wondrous feeling. Damn she’s a fast learner—! His groans pitch as she continues her ministrations, and he finds his eyes scrunching tight as she nibbles gently against his teat. When she switches to the other he rolls his bottom lips. He repeatedly echoes her nickname, a liturgy solely dedicated to her, as his head tosses back. Even with his eyes shut he feels her gaze up at him with those burning lilac orbs. She experimentally hums against his nipple, and oh the rumbling against his chest makes him cry out with pleasure. He feels her smile against his teat as she continues her ministrations. 

When she finishes she pulls back and stares at him with a smug smirk. “You’re easy to please.”

It takes all of Claude’s willpower to supress a hungry groan. He’s not going to indulge her _that_ easily. One of his fingers rubs her nipple, and he delights in how she flinches. “Would you like to repeat that, Princess?”

Edelgard shoots a playful scowl, and then presses a chaste kiss to his lips. She then wastes no time laying a few kisses down along his abdomen. She stops when she reaches the thicker lines of hair above the waistband of his smallclothes. When she pulls back and watches him with uncertainty he takes the hint and slips off his smallclothes. He throws it to the ground, and he can’t help but close his eyes and sigh contently as he feels his cock escape its tight confines. Upon opening his eyes he notices Edelgard blinking inquisitively towards his arousal, her face scrunched up as if pondering. He grows extremely self-conscious with every passing second of silence.

“Is… Is something wrong?”

Edelgard slowly shakes her head. “No, it is just…” she purses her lips, cheeks tinted pink. “It is just I am unsure how it will, um, fit is all.”

Whelp now Claude feels his ears have completely burnt off his head. His entire face will melt at this rate. “Will you be fine if I sit on your laps?”

Edelgard ushers him, and he enthusiastically scoots over and adjusts himself so he is straddling her hips. Her stomach shivers as his cock rests against it. A bit of his pre-cum is wiped along her abbs. Both blush as a result of it. His hands wrap around her shoulder blades, and he tilts his head down to stare into her eyes. One of her hands grips his left buttock and he very much likes the sensation of it that he moans. Her other hand hovers over his pulsating erection, clearly unsure as to how to begin.

“Guide me,” she requests, her eyes filled to the brim with lust and beseeching wonder.

Claude almost leaps out with just how delightfully thrilled he is. “Start by wrapping your hand around it,” he instructs.

Tentatively she encloses her callused hand around his shaft. He whimpers, and she feels her fingers starting to unclose out of fear. “Just like that,” he manages to breathe out. “Then slowly stroke it up and down.”

Overcoming the initial fear of harming her partner Edelgard obliges by wrapping her hand back around the shaft, and stroking along its length. Claude instantly hisses in ecstasy and bucks his hips at the sensation. As she continues pumping his cock the frequency of his whines and moans increase. Like an animal in heat he rocks unapologetically against her hand, practically demanding that she keeps this up and not slow down for a second. Her thumb smears some of his pre-cum along the tip down his shaft to allow her hand to glide faster along his cock. Throaty and hoarse grunts escape him as he thrusts in rhythm to her hand. His eyes scrunch up tightly as he drowns in the pleasure. Even if he has touched himself many times he finds himself craving the amateurish strokes of Edelgard more and more like some addictive drug.

“Increase your grip,” he begs through his heaving breaths. It takes all his willpower to open his eyes to stare at her. “Grip it like you would when handling an axe.”

She does in time with her increasing speed. He almost comes undone at that moment. He calls out her full name in intervals, tasting it at the tip of his tongue, as he rocks vigorously against her hand. His mouth presses against her shoulder as she continues stroking his cock at a speed that makes him dizzy. Moan trips from moan, and hoarse grunts follow pursuit. His fingers dig into her back as he finds himself riding out the final moments of exhilaration. So close… _so close…_

He feels his head taken off her shoulder. She curls her fingers under his chin as she directs his attention to her beautiful lilac eyes. There is a deep loving expression that is elevated by the candlelight. The flames are present in her eyes, yet this is the relaxing fireplace one that seems solely reserved for him. There is something melancholic in them, yet he is too caught up in the throes of pleasure to pay heed.

“I love you Claude; truly, I do.”

With that said he came against her hand.

His body collapses on her. She wipes her hand against the duvet and then brings both arms around his back to support him. He finds himself blanketed by the wonderful warmth of her body. Her chaste kisses against his neck add to the pleasantness that is being cradled in her strong arms. One of his thumbs lazily runs across the curve of her back. They stay like this until his cock softens and his breathing steadies. He twirls one of her long silver locks in his fingers. A smile adorns his face.

“You were quite relentless!” He breathes out a laugh against her shoulder. “Once again you surpass my fantasies.”

He feels her chuckling. It is a lovely sound. “How shameless of you.”

He climbs off her, and now the two sit crossed-legged opposite each other. Their pupils are so dilated that they almost cover the entirety of their irises. They’re both covered in sweat, yet surprisingly for Claude he can’t smell the usual repulsiveness attached with it. Both of their hairs are frazzled, and he can’t help but snicker at how Edelgard’s usual flawless hair appears to have been badly combed. They smile fondly at each other. Claude takes her hands and massages the grooves of the faded scars. Her fingers return the favour by massaging against his wrists.

“Would you like to seal the deal?” He asks considerately, once again giving her the opportunity to stop. 

“I would love to,” Edelgard confirms. Her expression then turns austere. “But we mustn’t risk having a child.”

“When I feel like I’m close I’ll pull out and… unload elsewhere.”

She cocks an eyebrow in amusement. “You do have an interesting way with words.”

“I could be blunter if you like,” Claude shoots back with a wink.

Edelgard shakes her head dismissively at the proposal. He retracts his hands from hers and wiggles so he is closer to his pillow. A sheepish grin crosses him as he stretches out his legs.

“I would love it if you ride me,” he admits, his cheeks tainting. “The pace is all yours.”

Once again Edelgard flushes, and oh Goddess she looks utterly adorable whenever she is like this! But she smiles in understanding, and then proceeds to scoot over to him. He lies on his back and watches as she climbs over until she sits atop his stomach. His hands rake against her ribs down to her hips where he grips them. She looks stunning with her hair cascading across her face and her eyes appearing to glow like the stars above him. It is such a contrast to her usual stoic demeanour. One of her hands draws patterns against his chest, perhaps her way of easing herself into this act of lovemaking. Carefully, and with great strength, she hovers her cunt over his erect cock. If only he could draw the manner in how she smiles so lovingly at him. He loves her, oh how he loves her, _he loves her_.

“I love you,” he confirms in a light whisper.

“I love you, too,” she whispers back.

Slowly she lowers herself onto his cock.

Both convulse at the sensation. Instantly he grabs for her hand to intertwine their fingers. She squeezes his hand back. Her eyes are shut tightly and her bottom lips appear to have disappeared. He asks if she is all right and she hisses out a ‘yes’. They heave out a few deep breaths as they accustom to this unfamiliar feeling. After a minute of settling Edelgard starts to rock against his stomach.

Claude lets out a guttural groan as he pulls his head back against the pillow. His pelvis thrusts up into his partner in awkward tune to her own plunges. The hand on her hip tightens as he is succumbed to the ecstasy of Edelgard riding him. Oh, _oh_, this feels so magnificent. They may be sloppy, with Edelgard not being familiar with riding and he trying to thrust upwards to the additional weight, but Goddess he could not ask for anything better—! The slap of skin against skin is surprisingly pleasant to the ear. She’s so warm inside him that it leaves him drunk with lust and love: the perfect concoction.

Her drawn-out cries and moans of exhilaration drive him to open his eyes and crane his head to look up at her. She looks divine as she allows herself to be engulfed in their raw lovemaking, for once forgoing her obsession to retain control in any situation. She repeats his name over and over, and he repeats her full name in this passionate musical duo. As much as he adores her riding him he finds himself compelled to be closer to her. With his arms snaking around her back he sits up and jostles her so that she’s in his laps and pressing body to body and lips to lips. Their mouths eagerly map each other’s with their tongues. He bathes in the lust of her breasts pressed against his chest. Her hands gravitate to his chest to run patterns against his hairs. With one hand he brings it down between their joined thighs to rub against her clit. She lets out a loud cry into his mouth.

When they need to pull out for air he then suckles her left teat. He wants to ravish her, to show her how much she means to him, and that she is absolutely stunning. Her hands run through his scalp, and her lips target his throat to kiss hard and lick thoroughly. The amount of carnal and sinful grunts and moans he lets out is enough to fill his head for days, months, and years to come. She rocks harder against him, and he finally manages to match her vigorous pace. They kiss and kiss even with swollen lips, and they caress their body regardless of their aching arms.

“I… I’m close,” Edelgard manages to breathe out against his lips.

“S-same.”

He can feel the coalescing in his groin reaching its peak. At this rate he is riding the final waves of pleasure before it leaves his body. Both increase their rocking to the point the bed shakes under their weight. Their hands grasp at each other, hungry for the other’s touch before the inevitable climax. They keep repeating ‘I love you’ over and over, a broken player that goes on for eternity. With a final firm kiss against the princess’ lips he pulls out, pivots his body away from her, and unloads onto the duvet. No soon after Edelgard came against his right hip.

Exhausted beyond comprehension Claude allows gravity to knock him back onto the bed. Edelgard falls next to his side, heaving and panting so much that it pleases Claude that she too is out of stamina. They turn to each other and stare with awe. Both positively radiate in the dying candlelight, as if their skin have become translucent. He can’t help but breathlessly chuckle as the reality of what just occurred between the two dawns on him. Edelgard joins in with a few breathless snorts. Claude can’t recall the last time he has smiled this many times, and he can bet that the same applies to Edelgard.

“I certainly… did not expect my night to turn out like this,” Edelgard comments as she snuggles closer to him.

“Nor did I,” Claude admits. He pulls his partner and himself under the duvet. He kisses her check. “But as you know I am always full of surprises.”

“That you are.”

She leans a hand over to gently and lovingly caress his face. His breath hitches as she stares at him with that fond yet forlorn expression he has seen before. He tucks her messy strands behind her ears, earning him a content murmur from the princess. They utter a few words here and there, occasionally flushing when they realise how they responded to the other’s touch. She muses how their wingmen will respond to how their night has been, considering that they will no doubt piece the puzzle regarding how their dinner was so much more. Claude makes a faux groan of dismay as he cuddles closer to his partner, crying to her to comfort him and let him know that Hubert will spare him. She made it very clear that she will prevent Hubert from butchering him.

Although he feels his eyes ready to shut tight and for him to fall asleep he is aware that she continues to stare at him. She watches him, fighting off the sleep, as if this was to be the last time she ever sees him again. She watches him as if to perfectly engrain this moment into her memory. She watches him with that expression that leaves him feeling elevated with love and cold with uncertainty. Yet once again his mind is preoccupied, in this case him falling asleep in the arms of Edelgard.

Unbeknownst to him she continued to watch him sadly and longingly, until she grumbled ‘I am sorry’ and fell asleep with him. 


End file.
